Dragon Age: A Tainted Champion
by Demod20
Summary: Celestia Hawke thought she endured all life's struggles she thought possible. But after being infected by the Darkspawn taint in the Deep Roads Expedition, she makes an impossible decision with the help of Anders to join the Grey Wardens. How will she fare in her new ruinous calling instead of being chosen as Kirkwall's Champion?
1. A Sour Reunion

_"What a bleak world this is..."_

This was the only line of coherent thoughts that crossed Celestia Hawke's mind. Having endured an arduous life, journeying from her family home of Lothering she had to fight tooth and nail to see her family barely survive. Her sister, Bethany, was murdered as the Darkspawn crushed his body into a bloody heap, leaving her behind as they had to cut down the fiends. Even after being rescued by a timely arrival of a Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth, they hadn't seen the last of their troubles.

Arriving in squalor of Kirkwall, the old family home was led to ruin thanks to her uncle and smuggling into the city she had to sell herself off to work for the underground with her brother. Barely making it through, they found the opportunity to regain their title and wealth, timely within a crackdown on mages within the overpopulated city; something that was a problem for herself personally, given she was a magically affluent since a young age.

Risking everything, her brother sought to accompany her, if only to keep from seeing her die and do nothing to stop it she relented upon his insistence. The thick air of stench, decay and dust filled her lungs every step she took on an expedition she hired on with a smooth talking Surface Dwarf, Varric, and his brother who helmed the operation. It was a difficult trek, one that took numerous detours to get to the place described in the maps they had gained through the acquisition of a third member to their tribulation into the Deep Roads; Anders, a fellow apostate mage and former Grey Warden.

Battling through ambushes of creatures of the dark, the hellish forces of Darkspawn and even animated golems long since out of control, it was both terrifying and exhilarating to be sure. Once they found an artifact made of a bizarre lyrium of crimson color, they were betrayed by Bartrand, the brother leaving them to die in the Deep Roads as he escaped with the rest of the expeditionary force. It was a miracle to find an alternate route that led to a treasure trove, defeating the monster that guarded its boon with maddening vigor.

However, that's when Celestia had found her own horrid fate.

_"Even here, I can't escape the Blight..."_

Her breathing began to rasp, the edges of her fingers and corners of her lips turning pale and almost blue. As she fell to the ground through exhaustion and bare control over herself, her colleagues surrounded her in fear and concern. They could see the faint film of white was spreading across her eyes, a telling sign she was becoming infected by the taint of the Darkspawn; especially from how much blood had covered herself, despite her caution, doing little to prevent its poisonous touch.

"No! No-No-No, not you too!" Carver cried out with desperation, his hands gripping the sides of her shoulders, already feeling only half responsive to his trembling grip. His green eyes shimmered with anger and grief, with his dirtied face grimacing, framed by the bangs of his messier black hair. "I can't have you die here! Think of what this will do to mother-!"

"I'm," Celestia began to say softly, a flicker of realization dawned across her creasing brow along her forehead. "Going to end up like Wesley, aren't I?"

"I won't let that happen! I can't!"

"Take it easy," Varric tried to soothe the young man's emotions, patting on his back while tenderly releasing his hands from her shoulders. Conveying with only a somber look to the grieving sibling what he was doing, he successfully urged him back long enough for the dwarf to kneel next to her and lean her gently against the Deep Road floor. His shaven, broad jawed face sagged as his dark eyes shown her a calm understanding of her situation. The guilt was plain on his expression as much as it hung on every syllable of his voice. "I'm sorry, Hawke. I didn't mean to get you into this."

"Can't help what's done," She let out a raspy chuckle, coughing exasperatedly as she did. Stifling her breaths, she turned to look around to Anders, his own form seeming a little more distant than the other two. He was covered in blood, just like the rest of them, but he seemed to almost unfazed by it all. It only occurred to her that his being a Grey Warden may have something to do with it...

As if reading her mind, Anders bit his lip before proffering to the squatting pair of men surrounding the tainted woman, "There is a way to save her."

"Really?!" Carver choked out, his bleary eyes on the verge of releasing tears as he turned his armored person to face him, standing straight up to his impressive height. Seeing him avert his gaze nervously, he took a step forward, almost threateningly as he growled out with fists balled up at his sides. "Well?! What is it?!"

"Save may be a bit of an exaggeration but...well...given your condition," He spoke cautiously, looking to Celestia in particular as he tried to explain the prone woman of her situation. "This may be another curse. But the alternative is that you die a slow death of the Blight, unless we give you a mercy killing."

"No need to dance around the issue, Anders," She hoarsely spoke, grinning halfway despite how awful she felt. Turning her gaze up to him, she nodded with affirmation. "It's the Grey Wardens, right? It has something to do with you people?"

"I can't speak of the how, but I can tell you that they're the only ones capable of taking what you are and give you a chance of survival," He soberly explained, gesticulating with his right hand with an open palm that slowly closed into a fist. "In exchange, they will make you a Grey Warden for life."

"But they can save her, right?!" Carver barked, taking a stomp forward, his plated armor clanking noisily as his breath had softened with the slew of information he was given. Anders looked at him with a grimace, causing the young man to visibly grit his teeth. The anger in his body swelled at how much time they were wasting, almost enough to grab the cowardly mage by his collar and-

"I understand," Celestia quietly spoke, nodding as she found the strength to stare hard back up at the light brown head of the apostate guide of theirs. "Take me to them."

Despite the looks she was getting from Carver and Varric, the pair knew that the woman had made up her mind. Wrapping an arm around the prior's shoulders, the siblings made their way forward while the dwarf covered their backs and Anders led the way. Finding out that the maps were stolen from a group of Grey Wardens that had traveled to Kirkwall from Fereldan, it was uncanny luck that they were close at hand to rescue Celestia from her fate.

_"Huh...the Deep Roads look like a tomb when you look at it close enough..."_

Celestia's eyes could barely keep open, seeing the traces of the dimly lit underground tunnels like some sort of decrepit mausoleum. Ugly browns and rusty reds colored the spirals of dwarven carved pillars, traces of masonry trim and cracks on what was massive stone walls. Turning around one corner and marching long down to the other, it felt like they were going in circles, but that may have been just the fever she was feeling develop across her cold, clammy skin.

"Hm. I think they're close by," Their guide piped up, lighting up an inkling of hope in her brother's posture. Then, a series of snarling growls let loose into bellows and roars, causing the mage up front to twist around his staff in hand, sighing as he raised his voice to the three behind him. "Nope! Just more Darkspawn!"

"Oh for the love of the Maker!" Carver cried with molar grinding anguish. With one hand unsheathing his massive sword, he placed his sister in a sitting posture near the wall. Taking up a spread legged defensive stance, he waited for a pair of hurlocks to rush past Anders, the mage busying himself unleashing a pyre of flames towards a trio of genlocks squealing in pain from his magic. Varric spun around from behind Carver, unleashing a pair of bolts to the leg of one hurlock and the crotch of the other, allowing Carver to drive his blade diagonally through one's chest cavity before bringing the pommel of his weapon into the face of the other.

Splatters of deep burgundy sprayed over the young man's armor and face, washing away the crusting black flakes that had formed from prolonged inattention from previous repetitive battles. Even as the stunned hurlock fell to the ground with a gurgle, he drove his sword in a bifurcating smash over its skull, cutting as much as crushing the head into a gory mess. Turning to look back up ahead, the pair would see that Anders wasn't alone in fending off the ambush of deformed fiends.

"HRAAAAAH!" A bellowing guttural yell was heard, causing a massive Alpha Hurlock to stagger back as a double-headed ax clang and cracked against its own jagged greatsword. With broad strokes, the heavy plated fighter revealed his small stature, onyx dyed plating with the emblem of a blue winged griffon on the pauldrons to the backplate. In a surprising move of dexterity, the pole handle was twisted around in the small hands to catch the Alpha by its heels, pulling with a violent yank that made it fall onto its head and back with a choking gargle. Spinning about, he'd leap up forward and drive the forward face of the ax straight through the protective plating of the Darkspawn helmet, earning a meaty crunch for his effort.

Twisting about to smash his staff into another approaching hurlock, Anders turned the corner in time to see a wooden shaft of an arrow whiz by, impaling itself into the off kilter creature's throat. As it choked on air, the mage threw a follow up swipe of his blunt weapon against the bleeding wound, forcing it to cough its last breath as it'd spin around to the ground in a dying heap.

The sounds of fighting was dying off as the figures made their way forward, allowing Carver enough space to clean himself on exposed skin and haul his sister back to her feet.

"Anders," The stoutest member of the assembled company of strangers walked forward. Before the mage could get out a word, a short metal foot came with a kick straight into his shin, causing the man to cry out with a shrill scream the likes of which none of the three behind had heard. If the situation they faced wasn't so bleak, they would've laughed heartily at the man's misfortune as he began to hop on one leg and hold the other with comical horror.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! What was that for, you walking pile of tavern shit?!"

"That's what you get for running off, ya frilly feathered coward!" The dwarf snarled back, shaking his frayed red head and braided beard with equal anger as there was disappointment. Jabbing an armored digit forward, he hefted his massive weapon with ease over one shoulder, growling in a way only someone with a degenerated throat could muster such a noise. "We wondered where you gallivanted off to since Amaranthine! You and Justice just disappeared and fer what?! Don't ya know the concept of loyalty?!"

"Oghren! You didn't need to kick me, you know!" Anders whined, applying a dose of healing magic over his affected limb as he gingerly attempted to stand upright.

"Shrill as always, I see," A brooding voice ebbed from the darkened corner of the hall, revealing a chiseled featured man of darker fatigues of leather armor interwoven with black fabric. With a quiver of the same dye strung over one shoulder, a thin sword on one hip and a thin knife on the other, the man walked up to look with almost approval of the mage's sight. A wry grin emerged on a usually cold face, a gloved hand placed on a hip as he spoke freely to him. "Good to see you didn't die like everyone else believed."

"Missing is what I'm good at, Howe. Dying has yet to stick," The mage replied with a cheeky grin, feeling more like his old self now than he had in years.

"Well I'll be the Maker's cobbler," A lighthearted, jubilant voice kicked in as the broad shouldered of the group walked ahead with a humored smile on his face. This man didn't make Anders look as appreciative of being reunited, but nonetheless, nodded at him with an expression of gratitude; which didn't deter the dark blonde's approach with a toothy grin armed on his face. "Anders! In the flesh! I mean, I might have expected you with less flesh when we couldn't find you at Vigil's Keep, but still, wow! Fantastic to see you here after this whole time!"

"Likewise," Anders curtly replied, looking at some of the armor plated individuals with full helmet covered visages. They numbered up to six, including the head exposed three. With a wonder, he turned his head left and right, leaning forward with curiosity. "Is this all of you?"

"Are you meaning all of us Grey Wardens or are you meaning the Commander?" Alistair mentioned with a raised brow. Seeing the man back up with a hiccup in his voice, he shook his head and thumbed over a shoulder at the three behind him. "We split up to cover more ground. These three are some newer wardens minted out of Amaranthine. The losses we incurred at Vigil's had to be made up for something, you know. As for the Commander, he's returned to Court," He added with a wolfish grin and a metal plate clinking shrug. "Ball and chain, as you know, never lets him stay away from Denerim for long."

"I see," He nodded, the mage looking a bit relieved as his face resumed its normal color and ceased a tension he didn't know he was creasing across his features.

"Don't worry," The senior Warden replied with a raised metal covered digit up to his own lips. "I won't tell. I'm sure you have your reasons for leaving when you did, as messy of a situation that ended up being. A bit of a shame, but I'm in no place to pass judgement-"

"If you two are quite done," Carver's voice suddenly cut through, causing the assembled group to turn to see the young man hauling his sister over one shoulder, barely keeping her upright. As she hacked up foul looking liquid from her mouth that oozed grossly onto the floor -something even the red bearded dwarf blanched at- as her sibling looked up with impatience molded with his desperation. "My sister is dying. I heard that only you Grey Wardens can save her life."

"Oh no," Alistair breathed out with recognition of Celestia's condition. Even as she weakly raised her face, her eyes couldn't meet his, just looking in the wardens' general direction was all she could manage. Pursing his lips, he turned to look at Anders with a shake of his head. "Look, Anders, I know what you may be thinking but that's not how we do things. We take on recruits as a last recourse or who desire it. Taking in someone based on illness isn't merciful, it's purely pity."

"She's not a pushover," He insisted, the mage turning to nod in her direction as he commented on her. "She is a woman of impeccable character and solid virtue. She's also a gifted mage, and quite resilient. She's lasted this long after cutting down all sorts of beast and Darkspawn alike. I don't know of anyone more qualified to be recruited," Turning back, he stared hard at him with hands held tightly to his sides. "I know you need the manpower, even though there is no Blight. And I'm sure you could use another mage since you're down one."

"Who's fault is that, I wonder?" Alistair inquired with a hint of a glare, the humor having all but drained from his face. The mage could tell that the Grey Warden had the potential to bring him down if he tried to be too aggressive over the matter, and he had the authority to deny this request.

Turning to look at Carver and Celestia, he sighed, his shoulders lowering as he released his upright posture for a more resigned one.

"Fine. She can attempt the Joining," He began to say, looking to Carver with a stoic stare to intone the seriousness of this offer. "But she has to leave now, and she may not return."

"I guess," Carver began to say, his voice ebbing into a quiver as his eyes met his sister's. "This is goodbye."

"Only...for now," Celestia forced a smile, despite herself. "I'll see you again. Either in this life or with Bethany."

Pulling her into a tight hug, the young man stroked her scalp tenderly as she weakly patted his head and back in return. Withdrawing enough to meet each other in the eyes, he leaned his head against hers as he stroked her face and gingerly pulled apart. A pair of the quiet wardens approached, hauling her up to her feet and began to lead her up with the rest of the wardens in their company.

"Thank you," Anders bowed his head to Alistair, his voice truly sincere in his meaning of it. "I owe her this much, at least."

"Don't thank us yet," Alistair shook his head grimly, nodding to the others as he began to leave. "She has to survive the Joining first."

_"The Joining? What does that mean?"_

Celestia's memory of what came afterwards was slim. She drifted in and out of consciousness, her body all but writhing in agony from the effects of the Blight that coursed through her veins. It was hot, like fire, yet her skin felt cold and damp. Vision blurred and her orifices clogged with horrible sludge she hacked and heaved out like bile. It was the worst kind of punishment, yet she had no idea what this ritual the Grey Wardens spoke of.

Here, at their camp, they held the ritual. A hym of sorts was echoed in a hallowed speech, a goblet filled with a vial of magically attuned blood and slowly it was pushed into her weakened grip. Given the go ahead to drink, she pressed the cool rim of the silver cup to her lips and drank a foul ichor much too thick to be wine and not hearty enough to be alcohol.

All at once, her body spasmed. Her mind filled with images of tainted things of flesh, bone and sinew, and the voices of hideous, dark things spread in a cacophony in her ears. The haunted ceremony felt like a lifetime as it overcame her being, and her eyes rolled back as she fell unconscious.

Unbeknownst to her, a grimly satisfied Alistair takes the goblet off the ground and states to her with a nod, "Congratulations, Celestia Hawke. You are a Grey Warden, for better or worse."

* * *

**A/N**: And this is the beginning of perhaps a new AU story of the Champion of Kirkwall...not becoming the Champion of Kirkwall. Instead, she's the one to become infected by the darkspawn taint instead of her sibling and becomes selected as a recruit for the Grey Wardens. But instead of them just being a bunch of faceless nobodies and a guy we never really like (Seriously, who likes seeing STROUD as our Stand-In Grey Warden face?) we have a bit of an Awakening reunion. Oghren, Nathaniel Howe and Alistair! I had fun writing their interactions with Anders, almost making me wish I wrote an Awakening story but that's not the purpose of this fic. Who knows, maybe I'll throw in some more Awakening or Origins characters if it works out that way but for now, I like the idea of Hawke being a Grey Warden as it takes the story back to its roots.

Shorter than I'm used to with story beginnings but I wanted to get straight to the point of what this is all about. Let me know what you guys think in the Reviews or PM me for more details. Until then, I'll see you in the next eventual update!


	2. A Fated Escape

_1 Year Ago_

Lothering.

The home that she had always known was a small speck in the variety of Banns existed within Fereldan. Long ago their mother left the Free Marches over what she could only assume was a family spat and married their father, whom of which was part of the dilemma back in Leandra's time spent in Kirkwall. Not much was known of him apart that he was an apostate mage and had met their mother around in the city of a ball of sorts. It was romanticized by either parent and it gave hope for Celestia that she too could have a family just like her mother and father did.

In her childhood, all she could remember was moving and running. Initially it was because people found out that she and Bethany could use magic, or someone in town could perceive their father as someone to not be trusted. Whatever the case may be, they moved all over Fereldan, always choosing to be scarce and not keep many belongings. She was explained at an older age this was because people feared magic but it shouldn't be something she nor her sister should be afraid of and be thankful for the gift the Maker had given them.

When they had settled down in the outskirts of Lothering, she thought they finally found a measure of peace. It wasn't perfect as they still had to work hard to make sure everyone was provided for. This meant that Bethany and her had to make use of their hands and feet more than their mythic talents, allowing them to stay unnoticed and accepted in their quaint community of villagers and pious folk. Even when Templars or Brothers of the local Chantry interacted with them they gave them no qualms to suspect them of foul play.

Inheriting her father's hair and eyes as the eldest child, Celestia was considered a rare beauty among the village. While her male guardian had snow colored tresses she boasted a shimmering silver that glittered in broad Sunlight, with her eyes matching the same and almost mirrored his own crystal light blue orbs.

Bethany, her younger sister, bore the traits of her mother with deep onyx hair and near black eyes that had hints of amethyst streaking through them. While Celestia was considered to be more headstrong and often brazen, Bethany seemed to be pragmatic and thoughtful, often being the one to help discourage the more hearty antics of her older sister.

Carver, sharing traits similar to his twin, had deep onyx hair and violet-streaked black eyes. He was regarded as the most loud and did anything he could for attention due to the neglect of not receiving the same kind of attention his two sisters possessed. In that respect, it made sense that eventually joined King Cailan's army to fight the Darkspawn to the south.

It was much to their surprise when Carver, dirtied and covered in blood of fellow and enemy alike, ran with other stragglers on foot. He collapsed in their home and Leandra hurried to give him water to clean himself and rehydrate. The moment Bethany saw his condition, she had knelt to comfort him. But when Celestia saw his condition, she asked the pointed question that made sense.

"Did we lose the battle?"

Hurriedly explaining the fallout of the massacre that took place with alleged betrayal by the famous Teryn Loghain, Celestia rallied their family to take what little possessions necessary they had and run. Leandra said the only place they could truly be safe within reasonable travel distance was Kirkwall. Despite the stories told of their late father, whom had passed away three years prior, they knew it was the only place to find sanctuary away from the horde that was assured to overwhelm them past nightfall.

"Come on! We have to go faster!" Celestia Hawke proclaimed with haste in her voice as much as her step. She led the family along the road, ignoring the screams of fellow villagers, deserters and survivors alike. Their family unit stuck together as the snarling beasts began to catch up with them. How they avoided the clusters of monstrous mutants she couldn't fathom; just that they were now being caught up was enough for her disciplined instincts to kick in.

"S-Slow down-!" Her mother could barely get out as she slowed, resting her hands on her skirt covered knees. Carver was the quickest to halt, his sword already in hand and eyes widened with alarm. A massive hurlock leaped out from the bend of the road, sword in hand and its grotesque hairless head on display; bloodshot yellow eyes and jagged teeth opened as it let out a haughty laugh with a blade swinging down at their mother.

Only for the weapon to be thrown out of its grip, spinning just over the grey-headed woman. Too shocked to realize he was left unarmed, the creature didn't pay attention to the massive great sword that slammed into the exposed part of its neck where it met the shoulder blade. A meaty crunch, a spurt of dark red splattering the sword and the sharp edge embedded deep into its body and crushed the armor like foil from the angle it was met. Dying on its feet with a coughing hack of bile from its mouth, Carver wrenched his weapon out of the hurlock, tripping over a genlock that emerged from the uneven road like a demonic mole.

Falling to his back with a metallic clap. The genlock crawled out of the ground and bore a pair of axes in hand. With the sharp eared grin and warped lips forming around drooling teeth, the dull yellow stare told Carver that he was going to be butchered before he'd have the chance to shrug it off. So as it launched itself up to strike down on him -with his arms crossing over his face in a desperate move to protect his vital area not covered by metal- he was surprised when the form was catapulted off by a spinning projectile.

Even as the splat of blood fell over his arms and chest, he'd blink and look over to see Celestia's hand maneuver with the staff crafted of lacquered wood and Lyrium crystals embedded at the gnarled tip. The sword she had telekinetically wrenched out of the former hurlock's hand was launched back around, he wagered, as it now danced in a gory spin from the now mutilated corpse of the genlock. Without waiting another second, she sent it hurtling at another genlock that was hiding in some dead bushes for poor cover, pulling back a short bow but failed to release the arrow taut and ended up shooting the ground as the blade sank deep into its skull out the other side.

Bethany had stood in shock, her hand clenching her own staff of a black dyed root they found from a dead tree, one of which she inscribed runes into from her own talents of the craft. Her knuckles were white but her own face was paler still, and she looked like she was stuck in place.

Celestia, seeing the uncharacteristic fear across her sibling's face made her frustrated; this was unlike her, and she was dependent on her sister's level-headed nature to help guide her out of trouble. Shaking her head, she rushed to her mother's side, ignoring the glare she was getting from her brother as he pushed himself up back to his feet.

"Mother, we can't slow down like this," She urged as gently as she could manage, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her expression of concern through to her violet-black eyes. "I know this is hard, but we have to press on if we're to make it to the harbor."

"I-I know...I'm sorry," Leandra apologized with a shaky voice, taking in deep lung fulls of air. "Forgive me. I'm just not as young as I thought I was. Please, let's continue."

"This is madness!" Carver exclaimed, finally back on his feet as he began to look all around them. Bethany, finally breaking out of her fearful state, had enough clarity to rejoin the family in a complete circle beside her angry brother. She took cautious glances between them, but found no voice as he flailed his unarmed hand for emphasis. "The Darkspawn have already caught up to us, despite the horde being half a day's journey behind. How can those bastards run without resting?! Can we outrun them at all?!"

"Carver, if you haven't noticed, there's not many of them just yet," Celestia rationally gestured, casting a stare at the slain hurlock with contempt. "It's likely some of them have broken off from the bulk and ran ahead. They don't seem to be that coordinated so let's just be thankful they're fewer in number at the moment."

"Easy for you to say," He sneered, swinging his hand down as he glared hard at her. "You didn't fight them in their entirety. You weren't there when we were left to die when they overran our formations. You weren't there when our king died!"

"Carver, please," Bethany finally spoke up, bringing herself to be in between Celestia and her twin. Casting a glance between the pair, she could tell that Celestia herself wasn't apologetic in what she said and made the situation even worse. Staring at her brother, she placed a hand on her chest, she looked up at him with empathy as she softened her voice to him, "I'm sorry. I wish I could have been there to help you, I truly do. But we can't afford to think about it. Our family is still alive and we need to get to safety. You can tell us the rest of the story, if you want, after we're back in our new home."

Pressing his lips tightly shut, he closed his eyes and began to recompose himself with deep breaths. As he did so, Leandra herself helped echo her own opinion that they can't be fighting at a time like this. Celestia seemed to tune everything out as she began to look all around her. Something felt off about the whole scenario despite her attempt of reassurance. Why was there only three? Were they scattered to such a wide degree? Or were they simply scouts?

Discouraging the notion, she looked to Bethany, her hand raising up to touch her on the shoulder. Seeing her flinch and cast a shocked glance that quickly receded into shame, Celestia spoke quietly as she intoned seriously to her, "Beth, I can't do it by myself. Without lyrium, I can't keep up my spells forever. You have to help me make up for that difference. You can't freeze up again. Do you understand?"

"I understand," She nodded, shamefully hanging her head as she spoke.

"Look at me, Beth," Celestia spoke again, this time getting her violet-streaked black eyes to look at her peerless silver ones. "It's going to be alright. You just need to trust me and we'll get through this."

"I believe you," Bethany affirmed with a smile. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Please don't, less I trip like Carver did," She giggled, much to the brother's annoyance.

Sharing her own laughter, the family soon trekked on and began to efficiently ward off more bands of stragglers. Much to their fortune some remains of dead soldiers and templars had left over remains of supplies they needed. Despite this being a war Celestia herself felt it ill to pilfer from the recently deceased but felt they had no choice in the matter. It was a matter of survival, and she'd do anything to ensure her family's safety.

With Lyrium shared between herself and her sister, a healing canister for Carver and a stamina drought jar for their mother and brother, they rejuvenated themselves with poultices before continuing.

Their journey led them to encounter a couple surrounded by a larger pack of hurlocks. One of them was injured and beaten down, leaving a rather broad-jawed woman of colorful orange-red hair to pick up his shield, defending him heartily. While female soldiers were uncommon, the ability of her swings and deflections of the shield proved she was able bodied enough to protect the man whom lied wounded behind her.

A sense of desire to help them rushed within Celestia right before Bethany herself cast a bolt of lightning from her staff. The Primal spell scorched through the back of the hurlock, allowing it to be cut down by the woman with the shield in hand. Getting the attention of two other hulking beasts, they broke out into clanking runs with sword and shield in their hands.

"Great, now we have to fight these now!" Carver complained audibly as he gripped his claymore with renewed anger. Stepping in front of his sisters and mother, he swung with a loud roar, making the approaching hurlocks stumble back as he parried their blades with venting frustration. Amidst his furious swings he'd slash a shield away in time for him to lunge a pommel strike to its face. As it was stumbling, he'd backhand the other hurlock approaching him across the face, feeling his leather bound knuckles rap hard against the exposed jaw and teeth with a painful smack. Turning to give a two-handed swipe, he'd crush the creature's skull into gruesome pulp, allowing him to swing the bloodied weapon around in a decapitating slash across the other's throat.

By the time he finished with the pair, Bethany and Celestia helped finish off the others while orange-haired woman finished off the last of the filth with a skewer through the gaping maw.

Turning about, she'd help the man up, revealing himself to be in fact a Templar, as the shield testified in the woman's hand.

"Mages," He rasped out, mustering up a determined grimace past the weakened expression he was unable to dispel. With a hand holding onto a bleeding abdomen where the armor had failed to protect him, he raised the other hand as if to command the apostates through undying duty. But, in failing to halt their approach, he felt forward and leaned against the woman's shoulder for support. "I must...stop...the apostates! They could be...maleficar-!"

"They helped us, Wesley," She attempted to soothe, her shield adorned arm holding his body weight back for his support. "Be still, my husband. They don't seem to mean us harm."

"Can't be certain. You never know when they...turn on you..."

"What a charming fellow," Celestia snarked with an unimpressed stare aimed at the pair. Seeing the look of contempt made for the comment from the templar's wife, she sighed with a roll of her eyes and shrugged. "Sorry, can't help being born as I am. You'll just have to deal with it I suppose."

"What my sister means to say," Bethany interceded -much to the silver-haired sibling's disapproval- as she stepped forward with a hand pressed against her exposed collarbone above her white and blue colored blouse. "My name is Bethany. We're of the Hawke family of Lothering. We're fleeing the horde and are trying to meet with our family in Kirkwall."

"Yes, it's as she says," Leandra nodded as she stepped up beside her daughter. "Can we peacefully escape this Blight before it overtakes us?"

"I'm certain my Wesley means well, and I won't turn down help when it is offered," The orange haired woman said on behalf of the pair, looking to the man as he gave a weak nod. Smiling, she looked favorably as Bethany walked up ahead and cast a healing light over his midsection, lessening the severity of his injury. Despite a visible protest of magic being placed on him, he did mutter a disgruntled thanks for her aid. Standing more upright beside his beloved, the woman introduced the pair with a gesture of her sword. "I'm Aveline Vallen, and this is my husband, Wesley. I was stationed at Ostagar and he came in search of me when I was fleeing. We were ambushed shortly after our meeting and we haven't been able to be rid of these foul creatures."

"That's the same as me," Carver piped up, causing the siblings to look at him, more confidently nodding to Aveline with a morose expression. "I...also served at Ostagar. I came to Lothering to warn my family and we've been running since."

"Then we're of similar objectives," Aveline nodded with a smile. "No need to delay ourselves any further because of semantics. Let's flee the Blight and head to Kirkwall, since that seems to be a safe enough distance for the moment."

"Unless the Darkspawn learn how to swim," Celestia added with a slight chuckle.

"Don't give them ideas, Cel," Carver snorted, resting his weapon on his shoulder as they prepared to continue onward.

After the formal exchange, the families moved forth with a measured pace, making sure to not run faster than what the recently recovered Templar or the older woman could manage. While the full extent of the Blight's effects hadn't rampaged to their homeland just yet it was still eerie this time of year to see so little in terms of grass and leaves in their immediate surroundings. It added to the dread of the foul creatures' emergence whenever they had approached.

Stragglers came and went as they moved onward, easily dealt with thanks to the preserved supplies of potions they kept in reserve. Rationing out to use as little in terms of grandiose maneuvers or complex spells, they moved through the hills with haste and caution. The numbers of these encounters seemed to increase over time and it was a certainty in the battle hardened mind of Carver and the disciplined pair of mage siblings that something was coming; something they couldn't simply deal with as easily.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Tremors?" Wesley asked aloud, as if realizing something was amiss to these paced vibrations.

"No, not tremors-"

"Footsteps!" Carver finished for Celestia, turning just in time to feel the thunderous approach of a twisted pair of horns atop of a massive beast of purple-grey skinned monster. Armed with little in terms of weapons, the ogre was a massive behemoth that was over ten feet tall with thick skin, this one possessed only a spiked pauldron on one arm and a pair of braces easily as thick as plate-mail on each hand. With an armor piece placed around the pelvic region, the bare footed beast charged straight ahead with flailing arms, seeming intent on running them over with its momentum.

Everyone reacted at the last second, with Aveline pulling her husband away and Carver his mother away. Bethany and Celestia dove in opposite directions, barely missing the massive shins and clawed hands that nearly raked their less armored bodies. Rolling over to stand up, the giant looked over at them, bellowing out an authoritative roar as it beat its chest like an ape.

Before anyone had time to conjure a hope to combat the monster, Bethany took a look at the horrified look on Carver and the frightened look on Leandra. Something inside of her snapped as she stood tall and gripped her staff in both hands. Looking ahead at the ogre, she snarled out loud with no fear etched into her voice, "You foul monster!"

With a slam of her staff against the ground, she let loose a cacophony of electricity from the black stained root. It stormed outward in a flashing display of power, nearly blinding the observes, entangling the tall creature with the full fury she had to bear. The thick hide was frying across the chest, bubbling and popping with searing tissue as it opened up parts of tissue that'd ordinarily take a stronger weapon of conventional means to tear through.

Before her spell even ended, a hand swung out and the beast howled in rage as it clung to her whole midsection in its grip.

"BETHANY!" Celestia managed to cry out before her sister's body was slammed into the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Holding it upright, the ogre snarled angrily at a now bloodied and inert form that resembled the fearless girl that had attacked it. Without thinking twice it tossed her aside, toppling about like a limp doll before crumpling into a heap. Turning to look at the others, it roared out as it rushed to kill the rest as it did with her.

Her mind went blank as she dug deep within the well of power she had to offer. As its stomping feet came alarmingly close she let go of her staff, allowing it to suspend in the air as both hands raised upward and then clawed at the space separating the beast and herself. All around the behemoth a spectral prison of pure magical force ensnared it, wresting its ability to move while simultaneously crushing it at all angles. Bones began to break and the large appendages began to twist in on themselves along with its jaw filled teeth.

Not wasting the chance given to them, Aveline, Wesley and Carver all yelled out in unison to rush at the beast trapped by Celestia's magic. The wounded flesh was easily cut into thanks to the roasting the Primal spell had marked it, with relative gallons gushing from the chest and belly as they stabbed, hacked, and thrust into the beast that doused some of them in the tainted blood shower. Weakening further thanks to their collective effort, Celestia's eyes went to the staff near her sister's body and levitated it through her sheer will.

Then, with only her eyes to guide its path, the wooden instrument slammed through its head, burrowing past its ear canal in one end and out the other in an explosion of wooden flotsam and grey matter. Releasing the spell, she'd collapse to her hands and knees, the staff that was suspended before her falling with a tapping clank. Tears rushed from her eyes as well as sweat as it took what mana she could manifest to accomplish the spell she had; even then the Crushing Prison wouldn't have worked completely had it not been for her brother and the married couple's assistance.

"Bethany, noooooo!"

Leandra's distant wail brought her back to the instance that etched into her mind permanently. The instance of her sibling, standing tall where she had hesitated, and died because of her own inaction. Her sister was beaten into a pulp and would have been saved if not for her. The fire that raged within her died the moment the beast fell, and all that was left with was an empty numbness of the hollow pit formed from this loss.

In that moment, she had wished the Darkspawn had killed her instead.

* * *

"Hello?" A voice seemed to echo off a dank enclosure.

Celestia's eyes fluttered, wrested out of a deeply unpleasant memory amidst her nightmare. Her stomach rolled with her movements, nausea coming to as she forced herself to sit upright. Clutching at her stomach, she'd feel dizzy to the head but no longer cold and clammy. Her sight had returned, allowing her to see the makings of a torch-lit campfire made within a storage room of the Deep Roads. The scent of the place was still musty and the masonry was still decrepit, but intact nonetheless.

Turning to look around, she'd be surprised to see a griffon helmed soldier squatting curiously right next to her. Blinking blearily, she'd turn her head left and right, noticing nobody else was paying attention. The three men she had remembered their faces from before were talking in quiet voices -more than likely being respectful of her previous slumber-; the one named Howe pacing, the dwarf Oghren hoisting a large ale jar over his face noisily and the one in charge, Alistair, was sitting on his knees still armored as he was before. The other pair of helmeted Wardens were watching the stone door entrance, making idle talk as the smaller one of the group was still looking at her in a hunched squat before her.

"Um...hello?" She heard the voice asked again, this time causing her head to turn and cast a weary glance at the figure.

"Sorry," Celestia apologized, raising a hand to rub her face, massaging the bridge of her nose as she continued to force herself to be more conscious. "Whatever I drank from earlier still has me reeling. Better than puking up blood, I suppose but...Maker...did I drink _their_ blood?"

"Some Lyrium and other stuff too," The Warden replied with a bob of the winged mask of metal, the visor slit showing a pair of cool blue eyes blinking within the darkness of the head protection. The voice was muffled enough that she couldn't tell the sex, and the frame was slender enough she'd wager that it could be appropriate to assume either one. Either way, something seemed weird about the novice, but she couldn't place a finger why as she heard the figure continue to speak with a shrug. "It's complicated stuff, I'm not fully sure what it all means."

"You're a bit on the small side to be a Warden," Hawke said with a glib tone, grinning halfway as she heard a choking gasp from behind the helmet. Raising a brow, she leaned partly back on one hand while gesticulating a challenging gesture with her other hand. "Am I wrong?"

"I'm...eighteen."

"Pardon?" She blinked with confusion.

"Sorry," The Warden finally relented, grasping at the rim of the helmet and pulled it upwards in a hesitant manner.

Once revealed, Celestia couldn't help but stare. It was a young man, -an elf, in fact- with hair the color of Sun-kissed wheat and smoother than a horse's mane. Atypical of his race's features he had sharper angles to his facial structure, his chin more pointed and his cheek bones higher than normal, only offset by a smoother suppleness that wasn't erased yet by maturity of adulthood. There was a roundness at the end of an arrow shaped nose and a pair of blue eyes akin to a pool of crystal filled water, shimmering where the flames of the campfire was cast.

"My name is Sael'sa," He introduced himself, his eyes staring deep into hers as he pointed to the top of his breastplate. "I'm an Elf from Denerim, from the Alienage."

"Not to be rude, but I can't imagine where else Elves would live inside of Denerim," Celestia smirked, feeling the sickness slowly ebbing away as she talked to this young boy turned warrior. "Given how unsavory the upper class tends to treat you lot when in nicer places of living space."

"It wasn't so bad," Sael'sa dismissed with an averting glance to his right, looking at the wall; there they were using as a place to prop up their knapsacks and equipment. Eyes fell as he sighed, continuing to tell his story to the newly christened Warden. "I was an assistant to a Guard Captain at Fort Drakon. Despite the glances and...the _Etuna_ treatment I received...the Knight Captain gave me coin and even taught me how to defend myself. I guess that's how I survived the Blight when it reached Denerim."

"Waitaminute," Celestia stopped, turning over to place both hands on the floor and look up with wide eyes at him. "You were there?!"

"Yes," Sael'sa he replied, looking back at her with a brighter smile. She could tell he was proud of this part of his tale, raising his hands to gesticulate while keeping in what she'd feel like was an uncomfortable squat the whole time. "I was so scared. We all were. Our Hahren -our elder- tried to keep us under control but I guess we all thought it was the end. It nearly was until the Warden Commander, his majesty, came in with just several others and rallied us under his charge. With what weapons we had we managed to actually hold the Darkspawn off and not long after, the bridge leading to our Alienage was destroyed; a bit of luck I think, since it kept anymore of those ugly bastards from getting into our home."

"Sounds more exciting than how I got here," She felt her face become crestfallen, the color draining from her face as she remembered events from her nightmare. The clarity of how detailed it still was in her mind, as if the trauma ingrained it with such an etching that she'd never forget what it was like moments before her brother arrived; and how she had managed to escape, but not without cost.

"You don't need to tell me if you don't want to," Sael'sa proffered, detecting the sudden discomfort from her pause and the look on her face.

"No," Hawke persisted, shaking her head as she inhaled with a fluttering closure of her eyes. Exhaling, she reopened them and fixed her piercing silver stare straight at the young Elf Warden. "I'm not originally from Kirkwall, the place I came from to get into the Deep Roads here. My mother hails from here and she met my father a long time ago. After some family disagreements were had, the pair fled and I was born, along with my twin siblings, Carver and Bethany."

"Something tells me it was more than a typical family spat," Sael'sa assumed with a tilt of his head. "Does it have anything to do with mages?"

"Dead right," She laughed, looking up at the ceiling with both palms resting on the ground floor. The nausea was almost all gone, and she focused on her earliest memories that she had the most fondness for. "It wasn't an ideal life but it was mine and my family's. Despite the fact I and my sister Bethany were born with magical talents, father did his best to raise us right and teach us to not abuse the gifts the Maker has given us. I never made many friends as a result of us constantly moving around or keeping to ourselves; Lothering was the closest we ever got to having a true permanent home.

"Unfortunately, father passed away from illness four years ago," She added, her eyes shimmering as her face fell a midge at recalling his burial. "Strangely enough, even though the village had some people who were suspicious of us, the Chantry voluntarily took charge of the expenses and gave him a eulogy the whole townsfolk attended. It was probably the most touching thing, seeing all of these people pay respect to my father, despite the wide berth we had given most folks we lived alongside of. Even the Templars seemed to express condolences as they never once pursued any action on our family despite a number of accusations or complaints sent our way."

"He sounds like a good man," The young Warden intoned with audible empathy as he coolly looked up with her at the ceiling. "I was an orphan at a young age, so I never knew what my father or mother was like. I was only taken in by the Alienage and they treated me like real family. I even considered our _Hahren_ to be closer to a grandfather than a simple leader for us."

"The Chantry Mother and the Templar Knight Captain were like family with how much they helped look out for my own. It was...comforting, to say the least," She inferred softly, a hint of a smile donning before a sneer adorned her face. "Then, the Blight came from the ruins of Ostagar."

"Your brother fought at Ostagar?" Sael'sa inquired, clearly interested as he leaned forward with his hands resting on his squatting knees.

"Yes. He fought there beside King Cailan. Him, and another companion we befriended on the way during our escape from Lothering. The Horde was far more swift than we had anticipated, with stragglers moving even farther ahead after they had razed our family home. We fought those that we could, but...it wasn't enough," Biting her lip, she looked down at her sprawled legs, knitting her brows into a scowl before closing her eyes shut. "My sister, Bethany, was slain before I had a chance to even react. And Wesley, the husband of our soldier acquaintance we met on the road, Aveline, was overcome by the Blight and was put out of his misery by his wife."

"By the gods," He breathed out with shock, realizing the depths of loss that this new Grey Warden has been burdening herself with."You must have been in thick combat. How did your family escape?!"

"Well," Celestia trailed off, her eyes blinking with remembrance as the scene played out before her as if it happened yesterday...

* * *

"There's too many of them!" Carver Hawke proclaimed, his armor splattered with blotches of red while his sword dripped with the thick ichor of the beasts he slew. Despite the corpses of the maimed, murdered and incapacitated strewn across the desolate hillside, the hurlocks all seem to revel in their sheer numbers outweighing the exhausted group of Fereldans. They had twisted grins and exposed teeth all jeering with a cacophony of snarls and growls, practically ecstatic to soak in the dread of their weakened enemies.

The strong arm of the group felt his brow caked in sweat, as the rest of his body felt the aches of running catch up with his burning lungs. His eyes stung and his tongue felt dry as his throat was parched. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Aveline and a limping Wesley standing near back to back of each other as they had suffered injuries and were also covered in Darkspawn blood. Turning to his most proximate left, he'd see in the periphery his brutalized sibling cradled in the shaking arms of his mother while his older sister looked as exhausted as he was, while her knuckles held the partially bloodied staff till they were paler than normal.

It looked to be the end as the Alpha Hurlock of the group began to walk forward, swinging a double bladed ax in a brandishing flourish for nothing but its own simple amusement. Its thick armor of plate mail clinked as it moved forward, its glowing eyes emitted from the slits of its horned helmet. Breathing with bated breath, it'd roll its neck side to side, ushering a series of sickening cracks before it rolled its shoulders in readiness. Raising its weapon with both hands, it'd suddenly halt its advance -and thus, the moment to strike for the rest of its kin- as a thunderous roar broke the air and silenced their rasping snarls.

All looked in the direction of a peak at the top of the hill they were traveling on, looking at first to be a leathery top that looked out of place with the rest of the drab landscape. Unfurling two wings, a deep violet-black scaled creature emerged and let out a shrill shriek that warped the air and shuddered the ground from which the blighted and the survivors stood upon.

"By the Maker..." Leandra spoke under her breath, Carver himself gawked with his mouth open and Celestia blinking with disbelief.

"That's a-"

"-High Dragon!" Aveline answered Celestia before she had the chance to finish. "If those Spawn don't finish us off, that beast certainly will!"

The beast perched on high shook its spiked spine as it took in a guttural breath inward; then it leapt off the peak and glided down by its wingspan to let loose a column of fire in their direction.

"Get down!" Celestia cried out, ducking while grabbing her brother's arm to hit the earth.

Despite her urgency, Aveline simply raised her husband's shield up and was surprised as the siblings' mother as the flames swept around in a curling arc of liquid fire that torched the creatures behind and around their flanks. As the dragon did a graceful fly-by, it spewed another wafting pile of flames, landing mightily among the burning, screaming and howling monsters with a snarling breath coming from its sword-sized teeth. Whipping its spiked tail, it cracked against several burning hurlocks, crushing their bodies through the force and left their crumpled frames to burn away in a discarded fashion.

As the Alpha Hurlock, still engulfed in fire, rushed up to swing at the beast, a clawed hand sought it in a swift talon vice grip. With no sign of effort on the part of the beast, a swift crunch overwhelmed the Darkspawn, crumpling the plate mail as if it was tin. As a result, a gush of blood and organs spouted from its torn armor like a fountain, sizzling as the flames still lapped over its mostly bloodied metal frame.

Curiously, the High Dragon seemed to look at them with the creature in hand, standing on its hind legs as it studied them with a tilt of its horn-enamored V-shaped cranium. Celestia could only marvel in awe and horror at the power this king of monsters had over the Spawn they have been fleeing since the morning. While she couldn't tell what her family or their fellow acquaintances were thinking, it was much to her shared surprise as a grand thrum reverberated the air and ground following a familiar tingling sensation she got when sensing magic at work.

Standing more and more upright, the glow of gold outlined white soon became more erect until it resembled the shape of a person. Amidst the bright flash of mana being expelled a head rose up with a soft white mane brushing over the back of a feminine form. Even from this distance she could tell the individual had a wrinkly face, one of time she could not guess she's lived; the stride towards them, however, told them that appearances weren't exactly as they seemed.

She wore what looked like a battle dress, somewhere cross between armor and robes of a sort of design she hadn't seen before. Armored legs walked in a confident strut, crunching the flaming soil as a gloved palm let go of the burning, gored body of the Alpha Hurlock she killed in hand. In burgundy threads with a feathery pair of pauldrons on each shoulder, a metal horned crown with spikes that jutted up above her brow and near the corner diagonally to each temple. Her 'horns' as they had saw before her approach was just an eloquent hair-braid, wrapped in crimson twine to give them the appearance of shape and texture to rear-jutting bone; a prominent feature that was reflected in her dragon form they saw earlier. With dark colored lips and deep pools of yellow for eyes, she stopped her approach when they were but a spear thrust distance away.

"Well well well," Their savior began to say in a deep, raspy voice, a curled grin adorned on her face as metal covered hands rested audaciously on her hips. "What have we here?"

At that moment, any strength the templar had vanished and he began to stumble to the ground. Aveline quickly lent her support so he wouldn't hurt himself further, causing Leandra to be moved with concern and joined them at their side. All the while, Carver and Celestia looked at the old woman drabbed in strange garbs while looking them over with coy curiosity.

"It used to be we didn't get any visitors, here in the Wilds," She stated with a smirk, walking forward a couple of steps till the pair of siblings were now face to face with the magical enigma. "And now we get them in hordes."

"That was," Celestia began to say, rubbing her lips with her tongue as she looked to the flames that still crackled around them, littered with fresh kills made by the woman. "Impressive, to say the least. Can't say I've ever seen magic like that."

"That just means you need to see more of the world, young girl," She jeered with a chuckle, postulating with a wry smirk in addition. "Or, maybe I need to get out more? Perhaps both are true, haha!"

"Well, uh, thanks regardless," Carver spoke cautiously, doing his best to glance at his sister before nodding his head towards the old woman's direction. "Who would've thought there was a mage who could turn into a dragon out here?"

Blinking slowly, the woman's lips curled into a grin and flashed her teeth as she leaned forward with a single step that was more palpable than the rest, "Perhaps I _am_ a dragon?"

Celestia felt her spine rush a frigid chill up and down, her weariness giving way to a sudden numbing fear of the old lady in armored attire.

But as quickly as Carver was about to step back, the old woman did before he did, and added with a humored shrug, "If so, count yourselves lucky that the smell of burning Darkspawn does nothing for the appetite."

Tension unraveled slowly from Celestia's shoulders she didn't know knotted when she felt threatened by their rescuer. She didn't know how to gauge her words of being truthful or fiction, as her mannerisms seemed to be an effective mask for her intentions. If nothing else, she was an old mage with a sense of humor that had little to not tact for her tastes.

"Haha, that was a good joke," Carver tried to break the ice, only for the woman to turn her back on them, beginning to walk away back towards the pile of burning bodies.

"If you're looking to flee the Darkspawn, you're going in the opposite direction," She informed them, seemingly nonchalant as she kept moving away.

"H-Hey!" Celestia's brother began to say with concern, walking ahead of her a few steps while making sure not to get too close to the mysterious old mage. "You can't just leave us here!"

Stopping her measured stride, the woman turned her head slightly but not enough to look at them.

"Can't I?" She asked, her graveled voice sounding almost like a hiss in those simple two words. As Carver reared back at this response, she turned around to look at the pair, walking back towards them anew. "I spotted a most curious sight; a mighty ogre, vanquished! Who could perform such a feat?"

Coming to a pause as she was within reaching distance of the two young adults, she then gesticulated with her left armored hand with her speech, "But now my curiosity is sated and you are safe...for the moment. Is that not enough?"

As if to seize the advantage of this woman's particular personality, Celestia quickly piped up with a disarming smile, "Why not show us that trick you just did? It seemed pretty useful, and I'd like to see how its done."

A raspy laugh was released from the woman's throat, her searing yellow eyes looking to the white haired girl's silver orbs with approval, "That it would be indeed. Such a clever tongue, for a mage," Leaning forward, she then asked with a lower whisper a very good question. "Tell me, clever child, how would you plan to outrun the Blight?"

Looking to add his own commentary, Carver raised a hand and pointed over his shoulder for emphasis, "We're going to Kirkwall - in the Free Marches."

"Kirkwall?" She questioned with a twist of her lips into a perplexing shaped smile. "My my, that is quite the voyage you plan to make. So far, to escape the Darkspawn."

"We've got family there," He continued to explain, looking over at his mother as she tried to do her best to console the sickly looking Wesley and the emotionally taxed Aveline. "We intend to stay with them there."

"Unless you prefer us to go farther?" Celestia snarked with curled smile, swishing her left hand about towards the deceased Darkspawn lying about. "I hear the Deep Roads are vacant."

A far deeper laugh echoed from the horn-haired woman, seeming to be quite taken with the joke. Ending with a raspy exhale, she nodded with a toothy grin, "Oh, you I like."

"Figures," Carver snorted, causing his sister to roll her eyes at him.

"Hurtled into the chaos you fight," Their rescuer suddenly said, causing Celestia to return gaze at the woman, seeing her almost stare far-off and straight at her simultaneously as she muttered something nearly incomprehensible. "And the world will shake before you."

Turning away from them, she stepped away several feet, propping one arm up by the other so one metal hand could stroke her chin, postulating almost out of hearing from the pair, "Is it chance, or fate? I can never decide."

A few seconds later, she turned back and strutted back to her exact spot, speaking once more as she came to a halt, "It seems fortune smiles on both of us once more. I may be able to lend you aid yet."

"Just like that?" Celestia nearly snorted, angling her body forward at a diagonal posture, raising a brow with near disbelief. "There must be a catch."

"Haha!" She laughed, turning as well as she answered her in a dubious fashion. "There is always a catch! Life is a catch! I suggest you _catch it_ while you _can_!"

At the near lunatic response they were given, Carver asked without concealing his voice to his sister, "Should we even trust her? We don't even know _what_ she is?"

"I know what she is," Aveline inserted into the conversation, causing the pair of siblings to look her way as she addressed with a level scowl at the old woman from the distance. "The Witch of the Wilds."

"Some call me that," The old woman replied with a shrug, adding with several gestures of her right hand. "Also Flemeth. Asha'bellanar. An 'old hag who talks too much', haha!

"Does it matter?" She questioned, turning herself in accordance to her proposition. "I offer you this. I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Will you do this, for a Witch of the Wilds?"

Celestia had to mull it over in her head. Carver looked just as concerned of answering too quickly, but he'd know just what she was thinking. They were out of options and by the looks of it, Wesley was in dire straits that made it next to impossible to advance any further in the condition they were in. Even considering their mother and Bethany's body, the two could tell they had little in negotiating power for what seemed like an offer too good to pass up.

"Alright," She nodded to her sibling, getting an approving -if not wary- glance in exchange as she looked to the woman with an outstretched hand. "You got a deal, Flemeth."

As if not noticing her outstretched hand, she smiled with acceptance and approached with a prideful stride, speaking evermore still in entailing their deal, "There's a Clan of Dalish Elves not far from the city of Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet," She proffered with a raised hand, now in possession of a carved necklace with foreboding imagery emblazoned on its face. "To the Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks of it and any debt between us is paid in full."

"Okay," Celestia answered, though her brows knitted pensively as she accepted the accessory into her palm, looking at it with caution. Sensing nothing other than a faint magical aura from the immaculate designed item, she pocketed it within her robes' inner folds, and looked back straight at her benefactor.

"Before I take you anywhere, there is still a certain matter," She added, causing the siblings to look with her towards a rasping cough of a very pale and vein lined face of Wesley.

The ordeal was made worse by Aveline protesting that he was fine when they all knew better. It was confirmed by the templar himself, having figured out the moment its taint had infected him. Flemeth made no qualms to poke at the suspense of the situation and only commented something Celestia wouldn't realize until much later; that the only way to avoid death by the Blight was to become a Grey Warden.

A moment that she wouldn't experience in full until over a year from that day forth...

* * *

"That's incredible," Sael'sa replied, blinking almost owlishly at the rich details of the story that took place at the point of Celestia's rescue. "To think that a legend such as Flemeth existed and actually leapt to your aid. As a dragon!"

"Believe me, I didn't think there was any chance of being so taken off guard ever since that day," The silver hair and eyed mage shrugged with a mirthful grin. "Shows what I know about the world, huh?"

"Oh I don't know about that," A voice suddenly interjected, causing her to look to her side, seeing the leader of the Wardens standing casually beside her lying form with a soft smile on his face. It was quite disarming how someone of such stature and armed appearance could look so harmless at the same time, to the young Hawke. Gesturing to her and then himself, he finished his comment with a chuckle. "I don't know much about the world myself and I traveled all over Fereldan."

"Somehow I think that was more inspiring in your head," Howe gravely shook his head with a sigh.

"'Psh! At leash shez a god lookin' lass-asssssssss, haha!"

Celestia blinked, having heard all three of them say something that didn't complement with the other. Just as she opened her mouth to say something she watched the dwarf take a swig, belch, and fall backwards from the force of his own oral gas. He snorted aloud and muttered unintelligible things as the pale mage looked around with wide blinking eyes.

This expression must have been humorous because it caused all the Wardens in her company to bust out laughing.

"...haha?" She forced a laugh hesitantly, looking at the rest nervously now all eyes were upon her.

"Excuse me," Alistair cleared his throat, reaching a hand down to take Celestia's, pulling her up to her feet. "How are you feeling? You were out for almost half the day; for what passes as a day in the Deep Roads, that is."

"I'm fine, just still a little squeamish," She answered honestly.

"That'll pass in time. You were infected before taking the Joining so its natural to feel a bit off," He assured her with a smile.

"I see," Celestia smiled, her sparkling smile returning now that she had become settled into her place among their ranks. Grabbing the hem of her skirt, taking a half a step back, she performed a bow of her head and a curtsy with her robes before the company of men. "My name is Celestia Hawke, eldest of Leandra Amell and Malcolm Hawke. Pleasure to meet you, Grey Wardens."

"Well well," Nathan grinned with approval, his gravely voice brightening as he eyed at a nearly stupefied Alistair and the surprised recruit, Sael'sa. "Now that is a greeting befitting of a true lady. I guess it's only fitting if we introduce ourselves in just as proper a manner," Placing a hand across his chest with his left leather covered forearm, he leaned forward with a disciplined bow before rising perfectly erect once more. "I am Nathaniel Howe. A pleasure to make your lovely acquaintance."

"Likewise," Celestia flashed a smile and a wink back at him, only further causing the man to smile fetchingly in return.

"I am Alistair," The man in charge gave a polite nod, his armor clinking with his movement. "I am one of the...well...I guess you could say senior Grey Wardens in Fereldan. Not that I'm that old or anything, mind you! I still got quite a few more years left if I have anything to say about it; unless a Darkspawn tells me no one day, I suppose."

"Pleasure to meet you, Alistair," She responded with a humored grin. "If nothing else, you will ensure that nothing is dull while I'm in your company."

"Haha! I'll take that as a compliment," He remarked with a pleased laugh. Looking to the elf standing next to her, he pointed his way with an approving glance. "I see you've met Sael'sa. He's a newer recruit, and only has just left with us to travel through the Deep Roads with us. He may be young but he's a natural talent with the blade and is quite quick on his feet."

"We've had a nice talk," Celestia turned to smile fondly at the young man, whom only nodded readily in enthusiasm back.

"The other pair," He turned to point at the other helmeted individuals, standing guard near the front of the storeroom they set up camp within. "Is Jorge of Redcliffe's Knights in service to Arl Eamon, and Asmund of Dragon's Peak. I'm sure you'll get to know them as we make our way back to the other half of our men stationed here."

"I'll try to pull my weight," She assured him, placing a fist curled hand over her heart with a wrapped thud -a tradition of the Red Irons in showing your commitment to your task- as she looked seriously at the jovial man with determination. "I won't make you regret taking me on as one of your own!"

"Well said," Alistair approved with another nod. "I can tell we're going to get along just fine."

* * *

**A/N**: And that's Chapter two! A bit of a lengthier one if only because I wanted to show my own version of the beginning of DA2, including both story scenes that I thought were pretty integral to building Hawke's character. And since I'm not confined by the boundaries of Color Coded Choices, I went with my own variant of how she responds to specific individuals. In this way, I think her actions speak for themselves. Also like sprinkling in some characterization for Bethany, albeit short, and Carver because I like the Hawke siblings too much to not give them something for their presence in this story. Flemeth, being a favorite of mine, gets to make a variant of her conversation to the Hawke siblings and we get to break this up through a conversation of Sael'sa (Meaning, "First One," in Elvhan,) and Celestia.

We'll probably get more flashbacks in addition to events of the present, depending on how much I and you readers enjoy it. So far, I'm having fun and as long as that's the case with you readers as well, this story will keep on going! Who knows? Maybe things will be different this time, now that the eldest Hawke is a Warden and leaving Carver behind in Kirkwall?

Well, until next time, see you all in the next update!


	3. A Tainted Secret

**Kirkwall - Hightown **

Carver Hawke held a great burden on his shoulders.

Aside from the haul of riches he carried back from the Deep Roads, the younger surviving brother hadn't a clue how he was going to break the news to his mother. They had set out as four from Lothering only to lose Bethany to the Darkspawn. Now once again the Blight had taken a member of his family from them. The only solace he had was the fact Celestia was granted admission into the Grey Wardens' ranks.

Provided she survived a mysterious trial called, 'The Joining'. He surmised it had something to do with the taint within her that festered and slowly gnawed away at her life force till she was either dead or an undead husk easily manipulated by the Spawn. He shuddered what might have happened to his sister had the latter transpired.

Making it back into the bustling traffic of Kirkwall, he, Anders and Varric all held a mutual silence. He didn't know if it was out of respect for what was lost or if they were simply stewing in their own respective thoughts. Looking back and forth between them, the younger yet taller man finally chose to break the silence.

"So, what are you going to do with your share of the loot?"

Varric perked up at hearing that, and Anders turned to look at them in confusion.

"Wait," The Mage began to say first, actually ogling the dwarf and young man with legitimate curiosity. "You're...sharing?"

"The partnership extended to Miss Hawke," Varric clarified with a wry grin, shrugging as he easily kept the large sack over his back clinking with precious metals and other expensive goods intact. "The way I see it, that includes you two. Her share is your two's share."

"Huh," The blonde magician swept a hand through his dirtied scalp, dragging some dust still clinging to the roots from the month plus journey underground. Chuckling, he smiled lopsidedly at them and shook his head. "No I-I couldn't-!"

"You did your part, Anders," Carver insisted with a straight face. "Work unpaid is worse than work not done at all. That's what my father used to say."

"Your father sounds like an honest man," He replied with a soft, sober smile. "But seriously, I don't need it. I think I'll attract more unwanted attention if you know what I mean.?"

"Your loss," The dwarf added with a shrug. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to have a rainy day fund, in case your little shelter isn't secure and you need a proper place of living."

Opening his mouth to protest, the mage clamped it shut and pursed his lips with a furrowed brow. Carver half smiled at this reaction, looking over at the dwarf whom just gave him a cheeky showcase of his miraculously pearly whites. Looking back with him, the man nodded thankfully as he gestured with admission, "I'll take what I'm owed; I'll leave it up to you how much that is."

"Sure, blondie," He jibed with a snicker. "Just don't complain if I give you too much, you frilly saint."

"I'll try not to pinch my purse too tightly then, bald-faced opportunist," The older man joked.

"If you two are done with your lovers' quarrel," Carver interceded with a half smirk, raising a hand to gesture to Varric. "Given our mage friend has no financial plans, what are you planning to do?"

"Oh, I got a few things lined up," He answered vaguely, shuffling his pack over his back while looking ahead. "Moreover I'm going to try and find out where my dear brother has scurried off to after leaving us to die."

Stopping short, he turned to the pair, chuckling dryly though it came without humor, "You'd think it'd be too much to hope for to find Bartrand in the nearest tavern, waiting for a bolt to the head?"

"With our luck, he could be halfway to Tevinter or accidentally broke his neck in Darktown," Carver jeered with a malicious undertone to his laughter.

Joining in with his own dark cackle, Varric sighed with resignation, "Yeah, well, who knows?"

Silence returned as people passed by, only passing the occasional glance before moving on. They were still in High Town so it was unlikely anybody was suspicious of their appearances just yet. The plus of their get-up was that adventurers and mercenaries often traveled through the ritzy part of Kirkwall before moving elsewhere, so nobody would immediately catch on they are fresh with loot from their venture. Even still, they knew they were pressing their chances by hanging around and idling by, waiting for the City Guard to give them a hard time.

"I'm," Varric began to say, breaking the pause in their conversation as he looked up mournfully at Carver, whose face had hardened into a stoic mask. "Sorry for what happened to your sister, Carver."

"Don't be," He replied brusquely, doing his best to not look at the dwarf in the eyes less he show the emotions he's barely holding in check. The mage sideglanced him with understanding empathy yet stayed his tongue, allowing the young man to speak his mind. "She knew the risks, just like I did, going down there. We all did. I just," He bent his head down, finally biting his lower lip hard, almost tearing skin as he kept his hands gripped on the sack's strings tight enough to make them go pale. "Wish I didn't need to tell my mother she's lost someone else."

"For what it's worth," Anders finally spoke up, smiling as Carver's eyes watered and looked up from his bent angle his neck made. "Your sister is made of stronger stuff than to die from the Joining. I'm sure she's doing just fine; you'll see her again someday."

Carver remained tight lipped. He knew the man was trying to comfort him, but he didn't want pity at the moment. They wouldn't make the pain go away of her sister's absence from his life. No matter how hard of a time he gave her, she always defended him or promoted him when she could. The only time they came to blows was when he blamed her for Bethany's death; he was surprised she didn't hit him but she looked close enough to trading fisticuffs.

Feeling a pat on his shoulder, Anders saluted off to the pair, his face returning to a grimace as he wordlessly departed from them.

"I'm going to go in town and check for buyers," Varric announced, looking up at the man wiping his eyes with a sleeve, supressing what he undoubtedly suspected could have been tears. "You want to come along? I could meet up with ya later if you want to see your mother sooner rather than later."

"She doesn't know I'm back yet," The Hawke stated, turning to look at Varric with dead embers for eyes as he blurted out. "A few hours of dull shopping won't be the end of her. Besides, I rather have actual money to bring back instead of valuables for grubby handed Gamlen to snatch up."

"Haha! Right you are," He nodded, gesturing with his head to have the young man walk in step with him as they trekked into the market district. "Let's see what riches we can get from this expedition, hm?"

* * *

**The Deep Roads**

Celestia Hawke has been a Grey Warden for only several days and she was already realizing the differences of her previous life to this one.

Her routine had shifted drastically in just the past year. She had went to being a discreet mage living among village folk of Lothering to becoming a mercenary among the Red Irons and then a self-employed 'adventurer' as Varric proffered to describe themselves. The time she spent under Meeran's hand was hard but fair, and the work she did was grisly but honest, allowing her to hone her craft and find new methods to keep herself hidden in a city that all but sought capture and execution of her kind. Then as as a hired hand for anybody who could take her -with only the express purpose to raise funds for her partnership into the Deep Road Expedition- she went around doing all sorts of work of difficult risk to mundane drudgery.

In just the past few days, she had lost count of the amount of creatures of the dark she had to slaughter in order to keep up with her peers. While she was in no way lacking stamina since her previous careers helped reinforcing that attribute of herself, she still was no warrior. The way the more learned members took to every dangerous ambush and waking nightmare with ease boggled her mind. The only member of the recently ordained recruited that seemed to even stagger over repeated duress was Sael'sa, and she suspected that was only because of his young age.

After the past few days went by, she got to know the others a bit more that were in her current party.

Alistair, for all of his lackadaisical attitude towards how he handled conversations with the rest of the Wardens, was a gifted leader and a spirited combatant. The moment action fell upon them he leaped into action, his body moving with a singular purpose and reflexively ensured most of the enemy's attention would be solely on him. Whether it was because of his body language or the unusual manner of taunts he'd shower the air, he was a premier guard for the group and kept potential hazards from stealthy enemies down lower than what it could be without him.

In regards to his past, she only knew bits and pieces from his tales filtering into the stories she's heard about him. That he was barely more experienced than the current Grey Warden Commander and current King of Fereldan, aiding him out of willingness instead of being forced to take a subservient position. His participation in helping defend Redcliffe, storming the demon infested Tower of Magi, and being among the handful who was present at the slaying of the Archdemon - he downplayed his role in each of these despite the detail of his stories he'd occasionally share among them whenever it was brought up.

He seemed like a pleasant enough man, if not a bit quirky and odd from her usual sort of people. If it wasn't for obvious problems, she figured Anders and him would definitely be a match had it not been for their awkward departure she only caught a glimpse of. The best she could say about him was that she felt the most at ease with, in comparison to the rest of her peers.

Nathaniel Howe, on the other hand, was a mixed bag for her. From what she was able to imbibe, the man had a troubled past and an even more troubling legacy; one he inherited thanks to his father -Rendon Howe- whose mad ambitions for power in siding with the late traitor, Teryn Loghain. Despite the years of faithful service and loyalty his family had for generations, it was all but smeared by his father's deplorable actions that he only ended up believing when faced with stark evidence implication his parent's treachery. The only solace he took was in finding his surviving sister to be alive and happily married, in addition with having a child.

He was as quiet in battle as he was in his manner of speech. His grated voice tempered by years of hardship and time spent in the Free Marches made him a difficult person to read as he was to keep track of in the thick of battle. Capable of slinking into the shadows as if it was second nature, the man's skill with the blade was only rivaled by his talents with the bow and his knack for dabbling into nasty concoctions he'd dose over the prior methods of slaying. He was their party's tracker as well as one whom communed with nature and the beasts that were receptive to his commands; he already bore witness to him taming a spider and a deepstalker, making them useful in a couple of occasions before releasing them back the way they had came.

She appreciated his candor as much as his compassion, but his cagey demeanor made her wary of his intent. After already suffering betrayal by the hands of Bartrand, she was cautious to be too careless in allowing people to be trusted by her and use it against her wishes. The only thing that differed was that Varric's brother was naturally unlikable thus wasn't as much of a sting to her personally apart from leaving them to die; his likability made it harder for her to distrust him, but she felt compelled to shield her emotions nonetheless when around him.

Oghren was...a dwarf. She could tell that Varric was a black sheep among his kind, even for a surfacer, for his attitude and pragmatic views were as different as the Sun to the Moon for this red-haired pile of filth. Despite possessing a sleek black armor, he somehow seemed to emanate a stench of alcohol and Maker-knows-what from him at all times. Even if they didn't possess ready access to bathing most of the time down in the Deep Roads she wondered when he last truly bathed!

Regardless of his crass behavior and leering gaze shifting to her at all times, he was a true force of nature in the thick of battle. With a bellow of a bronto that'd compete even with an ogre's, his body underwent a transformation whenever he entered a bloodlust. Having explained that he was, among his people, a 'Berserker' he had the capacity of augmenting his physical faculties while forcing himself to fight harder and longer than he'd ordinarily be without this raving emotion he'd will himself into. Despite his size, she saw him topple Hurlocks nearly seven to eight feet tall -armor and all- with the swing of his massive pole-armed ax. Finesse didn't make him a dancer, but she knew he could wield his weapon with far more grace than she thought a dwarf of his figure could muster with all of the armor pressing down on him.

She tolerated his existence, that's how much she'd put it.

Apart for the recruited, she liked Sael'sa the most, as he was the one to talk to her first and made the best impression in her eyes. He was the most eager to prove himself and had true potential that had yet to fully realize as of yet. It gave her hope for her place in this clandestine, noble order of Darkspawn slayers and heroes of the world. He knew how to make himself scarce from the most fierce of fights but also could intervene and aid at any given moment. She appreciated his help more than perhaps the rest in the party, if only by association.

Jorge was the quietest of the lot, as well as the biggest. Standing taller than even Alistair, the knight of Arl Eamon was there during the perilous battles against waves of undead sent from a demon infested castle at Redcliffe. While he spoke in great detail of the plight and how the Hero of Fereldan and Alistair had come to their rescue he spoke none of his own deeds in defending the village other than it was 'his sworn duty and nothing more,' so he said. Wielding a large claymore enchanted with the elements of lightning and fire, he was the official damage dealer of the group apart from Oghren himself. She respected him but thought little of his presence at the present time.

Asmund was an odd one, though not for his appearance or mannerisms. The man of Dragon's Peak was a soldier, having been a smithy before he had officially joined Fereldan's army and was a survivor of Ostagar. No, the strangest thing was how vague he was in his story of his escape and his strange abilities he utilized. He had this odd...presence, about him. She wondered if he truly wasn't a Mage despite everybody's insistence or dismissal that he is. He just answers with an almost cheeky grin that he's simply got a 'Guardian Angel' looking out for him.

But, that was all she was able to glean from the people in her company in the past few days. She'd hardly consider it to be wholly accurate or fair to place her summaries as a complete codex; though now that she thought about it, writing stuff down about her ventures would make good letters for her family. She stored the idea for later...

"So, dare I be the one to say it," Celestia finally broke the silence of their travel.

"NO! I didn't do it!"

"...I wasn't even-" She tried to rebuke, turning to the helmeted Oghren as he flung a short hand at her with audible clinks.

"I didn't steal your pants! Y-You gotta blame the schleets for that!"

"T-The what?!" She gawked with big blinks, seemingly forgetting she was still in a dimly lit cavern full of potential monsters around every corner. Was her dwarf colleague drunk again? Or was he just stupid?

"Oh right," Alistair snickered ahead of her, looking around back at the pair with an amused smirk. "Got to be careful for the schleets. They may look like pants, but they'll strike when you least suspect it. And they're even known to steal them so they can pretend to be your britches."

"I know right?!" Oghren cried out, seemingly completely believing whatever plain tomfoolery their leader had him believing. Looking back at her, she saw the glint of his eyes through his rectangular shaped visor, his hands raised up with heavy insistence. "So, if this is about your pants, then it wasn't me! I swear!"

"Oghren," Celestia sighed, patting her leg for emphasis as she stared deadpan at him. "I'm still wearing my pants. Skirt and all."

"Wait, how can you wear pants and a skirt?" Alistair questioned ahead, looking ahead as if to ponder it seriously. "It sounds excessive and uncomfortable."

"It's called chainmail greaves," She sighed, rolling her eyes as she continued to trod ahead with the group. "Just because we mages prefer to wear as little armor as possible doesn't mean we don't wear it at all. Besides, it's more likely that something strikes at me from behind would go for the legs first so that's where I focus my protection."

"That seems sensible," Howe replied from behind. "At least it's well hidden, so anyone foolish enough to strike you from behind would be disappointed to know you're not so vulnerable from behind."

"Heh! I'm sure I can make her behind _vulnerable_!"

"And I'm sure I can set your beard on fire," Celestia quipped with a too sweet smile aimed towards him.

"Well," He leered, looking at the sway of the silver eye and haired woman's hips. "I might still be tempted."

"Oh please, do try," Hawke batted her eyes, placing a hand on her right hip, sliding it across the smooth fabric of her cloak.

Twisting the wrist around, she'd envelop the palm in a swirling vortex, a singularity of Force ready to be unleashed. The sight of it stirred the air and made the light shimmer around them. It was a sign that she was truly ready to unleash against the incorrigible dwarf, something Nathaniel and Alistair kept a close watch to see what would happen.

"Pffft," Oghren blew a raspberry, throwing his arms into the air with a resigned snort. "You're no fun!"

"I am plenty fun," She countered in a sing-song tone, curling her hand into a fist to snuff out the light of her ignited mana. "You just don't get my jokes, _or_ my behind."

"Salvaging this conversation," Alistair smoothly interrupted with a cough, he glanced at her once more with his full attention as they cautiously tread forth the dimly lit cavernous path. "You were asking what our goal is here yes?"

Shrugging, the mage replied straightforwardly, "That's right. I mean, it can't just be to slaughter some nests of darkspawn, could it?"

"That's usually a given no matter what part of the underground we go," He answered matter-of-fact. Looking ahead, he continued explaining as he watched Asmund and Jorge hold their torches out ahead of the group to keep the majority of the darkness at bay. "The maps we were given were salvaged in some underground cellar the late Teryn Loghain had confiscated a great deal of Warden related information we had on hand. They were incomplete, at the time, so it wasn't until some of our brothers from Orlais had recovered some pieces that helped formulate a complete diagram of the tunnels we're scouting now. So far, from what we've seen, these Deep Roads seem foreign to even dwarven thaigs."

"Meaning we're in unmarked territory, possibly older than most of the history of Thedas?" Hawke asked, her eyes steadily going wider as she exchanged glances with her new companions.

"It's no surprise, when you think how old the Chant of Light and the Tevinter Imperium are," Nathaniel speculated in his usual, grave tone as the two looked each other in the eye under the flickering orange-red light of torches. "Perhaps we're entering the birthplace of the Darkspawn itself? Or maybe something that predates even the Elven Empire of old?"

"There better not be any elf crap down here," Oghren growled, scratching in between a crack of his helmet at his neck. "This place is already making me itch, and not in the good way."

"Are we sure that isn't just you, Oghren?" Sael'sa piped up, earning a smirking snort from Celestia, much to his shared enjoyment.

"I'm serious!" The stoutest of the company snarled. "My Stone Sense is giving me bad vibes all around here. There's something very wrong going on in this place."

"Well, I did encounter some oddities back where my brother and the others came down from," She explained, gaining a few curious stares of the group her way. Looking nervously at them, she shook her head in dismissal with a wave of her left hand. "Not like we can go back that way. It's sealed up, thanks to my partner's sudden fit of selfish greed."

"It can't be the only place worth mentioning," The youngest Warden stated, looking around at the walls with ornate carvings laid over the surface of the carved stone. He pressed his hands into the grooves, feeling the faint heat emanating from the vein of lyrium no doubt not far buried within the wall of the vast thaig's infrastructure "This place is vast. We've been down here for over a month and we've yet to scratch the entirety of these depths. Something must have been left untouched waiting to be discovered."

Celestia was about to comment on what her younger colleague said when a deep rumble vibrated the floor. Dust shook off the wall and ceiling, dropping down with fragments of masonry and earth rained down below around more than on top of the Wardens. Alistair and Asmund raised their shields to deflect the debris while Oghren barked in confusion as a large rock clanged on top of his helmet. Celestia waved her hand and telekinetically dispersed the raise of the ceiling's flotsam dropping over them.

"What was that? A cave-in up ahead?" Nathaniel questioned with an immediate tension across his posture.

"Could be anything," Alistair answered frankly, shrugging his shoulders while adding with a goofy grin. "Probably too much to ask for a Deep Road Bathhouse prepping the boiler for our arrival."

"I'd second that," The shield-bearer ahead next to Jorge spoke with an unseen -but predictable- wry grin on his face. "I'd love to wash this tainted filth off me and Maker knows what else the Deep Roads' clogged into my armor."

"It's best we focus on the task on hand," The burly knight rumbled out in his deep bass voice, arching his concealed griffon-winged helmet with a clanking nod to the others. "Keep on your guard. It's possible there's more darkspawn ahead."

"Or a tavern? I could go for some nice ale right about now."

"Maybe you'd still have some if you didn't gargle on it every few hours?" Celestia countered with a raised brow pointed to his waddling person.

"Ah shove it, pale head!"

"My head is not pale, you drunken slouch!"

"Quiet you two!" Nathaniel harshly interrupted, cutting their banter off just in time for them to feel yet another vibration. It shook the hall once more, rattling the infrastructure and messing with the luminous glow of the faint traces of lyrium embedded into the walls. As they all stopped moving to listen, they'd hear a distant banging, thumps and clangs.

But now they were hearing it more distinctly, it was clear this wasn't a natural phenomena. It really was a battle; but not like the ones they've had before.

"**VRRON GA FORMZ! NARHO ÛDIM ACH JOK, MENSAGH RAK KNURLA!**"

The voice bellowed with a strange clarity despite the thuum from which it carried its enunciated, arcane language. Those of the most senior in the party of Wardens immediately recognized the dialect and from whom it spoke. Alistair looked between Nathaniel and Asmund, both trading knowing glances, leaving the rest of them to look on with expressions of caution and fear.

"That's dwarven," Oghren chimed with recognition, looking at Celestia, Sael'sa and Nathaniel, then finally to Alistair. "And it sounds like he's in trouble!"

"Okay, then what are we waiting for?" Celestia asked pointedly with a gesture of her arms.

"Nothing," Jorge spoke simply, drawing his greatsword from his back and thumping forward out of the corridor into a much more illuminated cavern beyond. Thick roots of blue intertwined into the ceiling, followed by a myriad of gems that all seem to sparkle with its own form of luminous radiance. The underground chamber spread outward, revealing itself to have been a forge with the ring of lyrium interacting with a single stream of molten earth that separated the entirety of the group from the other half of the room.

As everyone caught up to the knight, they all came to a halt to see half a dozen darkspawn of various types fly in the wake of a thunderous boom. Lit aflame by azure fire, as some were crackling with tendrils of intense energy, they'd see a slew of the fiends all strewn dead or on their way to dying facing their enemy combatant.

There, near the far right corner of the dwarven forge was an immense proportioned golem, easily as tall and broad as an ogre was. It had a octagonal shaped head, with eyes aglow of crimson as the rest of the veins seemed interlocked with the steel plating that was slapped onto the construct long ago. Pulsing around what looked like polished red lyrium gems on its forearms, torso, legs and crown, the being seemed to charge up raw magical energy and unleash it with a single gesture of its gargantuan limbs.

"**HRESTVOG! HRESTVOG! HRESTVOG!**"

"Uh," The Wardens' field commander hesitated aloud, looking between the stoic to slack jawed cohorts of his. "Does anyone want to go help the angry, screaming golem?"

"It seems to be blocking our path onward, regardless," Asmund pointed with his shield, looking to the rest of his cohorts as he added with a smile, hidden beneath his winged-helmet. "Not to mention the river of lava."

"Typical thing to see in a thaig foundry. But why isn't there any tools or equipment lying around?" He asked the obvious question, shrugging at his own query. "Probably got looted by the darkspawn a long time ago. That golem may be the only thing still standing that could give us a clue to what happened here, but it doesn't look like it'll just let us waltz up to it with all the Spawn around."

Another shaking crash of the golem's fist let loose a fissure of mana, cutting a swathe through the darkspawn dead and living alike. A guttural howl was released by the mechanical construct, swinging its arms around like clubs, smashing in the bodies of its foes all around it. The monster of metal and stone acted like a beast itself, seeming to attack anything without finesse or grace, using its near indestructible body and brute force to pulverize its foes that stood in its path.

"So, any takers on how to at least get across?" Alistair pressed, again, with a more lackadaisical grin on his face. "And no, before you ask, I'm not throwing any of you."

"Throw me, and I'll throw my ax at you!" Oghren he snarled, pulling his weapon off his back for threatening emphasis.

"Well, unless some of you form a bridge out of the rocks, I doubt we can make such a substantial jump-"

"Tsk-tsk," Celestia clicked her tongue, shaking her head with a sly grin. When they looked to her, she took a hold of her stave and closed her eyes, focusing a slew of azure colored energy -like flames that didn't burn- across its shaft. Raising it upward, she gathered a host of debris that was scattered on their side of the room, rocks and slabs of masonry long since cast aside. Pointing her magical tool forward, the cacophony of earth flew with an unseen hand of guidance, avoiding her comrades and forming an arch over the bubbling molten river. When it was substantially high enough so the burning heat wouldn't destabilize it, she released her energies and smiled cheekily at them. "Never underestimate the versatility of a Force Mage."

"I do say, that is mighty impressive," Asmund whistled out through his helmet.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Lady Hawke?" Nathaniel asked with a wry grin of his own.

Shrugging, Celestia pointed ahead with her stave once more, "I'm just a magic satchel that keeps on giving. Now, if you don't mind, we have a golem to negotiate -or deal- with."

"Indeed," Jorge nodded gruffly, being the first to step onto the magical walkway up and over the molten river.

Following him with a shrug, Alistair and Asmund joined the bigger man on the other side, followed by Oghren, and finally by Celestia with Sael'sa. The six Grey Wardens trekked cautiously towards the golem, watching it flail two large hurlocks in its hands, smashing them repeatedly into each other as if they were cymbols. The clangs offset by their gurgling cries and squelching flesh made it an almost humorous scene was it not for the blood covering the metal giant, with glowing slanted eyes and fissures of crimson pulsing ominously over it.

Once it noticed all of its enemies were dead, it looked to the Wardens and then the shortest among them, pointing a metal finger at him.

"**KNURLA! SAGH RAK KNURLA?!**"

"What's he saying?" Celestia asked while keeping a close periphery of the looming, blood soaked giant.

"Uh, my dwarva isn't the best but...I think he recognizes me as a dwarf...but his pronunciation is an older word we haven't used since before the ancient times," He explained, looking over to the others from beneath his helmet with his free weapon-less hand. "The most you'd hear it is out of the Shaperate of our most ancient texts. This golem is definitely made since before the fall of the empire."

"Yes, but can you tell if he's friendly?" Alistair questioned prudently as he nervously kept his gaze square at the blood dripping golem.

"Uh, sure," Oghren warily agreed. Clearing his throat, he raised his ax to gesticulate his words, hoping it'd help get the point across. "Sagh, oeí! Oc jok sagh?"

Despite its unruly appearance, the golem pointed a pair of armored digits towards its breastplate, bobbing its upper body with acknowledgement. Beyond that, it said nothing else.

"Well," Sael'sa scratched the side of his winged-helmet with confusion. "It's not attacking us. Maybe because it can tell we're not Darkspawn?"

"Is that lyrium embedded into it? Why does it glow a weird red color?" Asmund questioned with a tilted of his own helmeted head.

"I've only seen that color in the place I came from," Celestia answered, raising a hand to her head, resting her palm against her silver-haired cranium. "It's giving me a headache being this close to him."

"It is a weird color for lyrium," Oghren admitted with a tilt of his head. "Hey...uh...hert narrvel ana isû?"

"**ISANA KAVIR. ISANA ARDOTH KAVIR. KAVIR ARDOL TOR DAR NOS!**"

"What's he saying?" Alistair asked with visible intrigue.

"He...says its...death lyrium. Or Red Lyrium," He tried to convey, looking to the others with a snort beneath his helm. "He said Dead Blood's come to him, whatever that stalker dung that means."

"Sounds ominous," Howe intoned with a wary turn of his head towards the golem's steel plated visage. "I can feel heat emanating from its body, as if the lyrium is pulsing more than it normally would."

"A toxic lyrium doesn't sound good for the body," Asmund noted with a wary turn of his body. "We should leave him where he stands. It's obvious we can't get more out of him."

"Wait!" Alistair exclaimed, looking to Oghren with a gravely serious expression on his face. "Can you ask him where the _Dead Blood_ came from?"

"Aye," Oghren nodded with acknowledgement. "Though, I'm not sure I want to be there if it means running into more Darkspawn."

"Just ask him, already!"

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn ya," He shook his head, looking back up at the giant. "Kozrol oc Kavir Ardol?"

It stood silently before straightening up in an automatic fashion. Turning about, it gave out a guttural grunt and began to march its thunderous footsteps towards the massive hole the darkspawn had seemed to have burrowed into the foundry. As the group of Wardens looked to each other warily, they slowly advanced behind the lumbering giant of metal and pulsing lyrium, covered in tainted blood. Farther in they'd get a sense of wrongness flowing from the walls, the more they traveled inwards. The tunnel was devoid of light except for the golem, who provided its own luminous glow as it trudged forward.

Eventually, the group came to a stop as it turned and allowed them to move ahead, entering a hold that looked both familiar and foreign. For Celestia, it bore resemblance of the Primeval Thaig she had seen with Varric, her brother and Anders. She had wondered why would such a large place of sanctuary be completely devoid of the dwarves despite craftsmanship necessary of their handiwork to function? Where were the dwarven people located?

Now, she had her answer in the form of what looked like a war torn thaig, a slew of dwarves of ancient decrepit armor now reduced to skeletons or mummified crystals. Darkspawn of old lied around them as well, but far more newer ones seemed to have piled onward right next to the dozens of piles of rubble that were the other golems. Blood long since dried stained the debris of the living space turned mausoleum, and the sight of dead Brood Mothers with pustules of flesh ripped from the seams were all smashed in various spots at the highest elevations of the cavern area; all lit up by jewels enamoring the ceiling, not unlike from the foundry before.

"I've seen darkspawn clamber into abandoned thaigs before but...I've never seen such a thoroughly destroyed nest like this," Oghren spoke dumbfounded, the others stepping into the corpse laid flooring with morbid curiosity and awe. Looking over at the pulsing golem, he then asked in as clear of dwarva as possible. "Fild oc jok?" (Who are you?)

"**ASCÛD GRIMSTNZBORITH! ISÛ ANA FILD NARHO DOM!**"

"What is it?" Celestia turned to ask with a curious tilt of her head, with Oghren now resting the ax casually over his shoulder.

"This," He said in an impressed tone, grinning behind his helmet as the Wardens now looked to their dwarven colleague with surprise. "Is all that remains of this thaig. Moreover, this is their chieftain; his name is Steel King, or so he says."

"You mean," Alistair began to say, though in a lower more reverant voice as he looked up and down the mass of steel and pulsing crimson lyrium interwoven between thick, worn steel plating with fresh and dried blood enamoring its framework. "This is a survivor since before the first blights? And he's their king?"

"Well I'll be," Asmund tilted his winged-helmeted head up to get a full scope of it. "Once we regroup, we should get some experts to comb through here. Ask this guy some questions who are more educated in this ancient dwarven tongue."

"It's almost a dead language, so good luck on that," Celestia commented with a shake of her head, her eyes still looking at the giant warily. "I wonder why it's so calm? It feels like it could snap any second-"

The moment those words left her mouth, the golem tilted its head and the glare from its eyes seemed to spew ethereal flames from its triangular sockets. The giant beast reached out with its hand and slammed its palm with so much momentum that the mage didn't even have time to blink. By the time she felt herself fling from the air on top of another score of dead bodies, she saw what its aim was at.

A Shrieker, the stealthiest of the darkspawn, had burrowed its way beneath the bodies towards Oghren and was about to lunge up. Now it was nothing but a bloody smear beneath its hand, leaving innards and goo to drip from its plating, reacting chaotically against the seams of exposed lyrium welded deep into its body. Tilting its head towards Celestia, it nodded with its upper body and turned to convey something out of her reach of hearing to the dwarf.

Snarling, Oghren hefted the ax into both hands, bellowing out loud, "We've got company!"

As soon as his voice echoed in the chamber of the dead, skittering and clattering was heard in and out of the graveyard of Spawn and Dwarf alike. Shriekers slid out of crevices, the were-ish creatures running on all fours towards the crew, while tainted spiders seemed to lower themselves from the ceilings; all the while glittering with lyrium of its own infestation in their thoraxes. All of them seemed to have something in them resembling growth, or, infection of the same kind of lyrium Celestia had saw all too much of in the hall of the idol.

Now she knew the real context of the Steel King's message. The Dead's Blood was the Darkspawn, and that's what colored the lyrium red, after so many years of bathing in its taint. The grim realization made her understand why the idol had not a living soul around it. It was a worship of the Blight's essence itself!

She had to tell the Wardens this news; if she survived this deadly trap!

* * *

**A/N:** And we're cutting it off here. I think this would be a nice place to pick up in the next chapter, what with this being a set-up for a great battle of Darkspawn and corrupted spiders, no?

As for some plot reveals, I was always a bit bummed Inquisition never really answered pertinent questions as to why the Lyrium Idol (said to predate the Blights) had Red Lyrium in it and everything surrounding the Primeval Thaig without a single Darkspawn or Dwarf remains in sight. I do believe the dwarves were responsible for the thaig's construction, don't get me wrong; all of the Deep Roads were paved by their kin. The problem is how does something that old exist before Red Lyrium can fundamentally exist within the same reasoning that the taint of the Blight can infect actual Lyrium?

In this way, I came up with the hypothesis that'll be extrapolated later on.

I'm still probably going to keep popping up with companions or Carver in future chapters, just to show you the progression of time and the effect Celestia's absence or presumed death is having on them. This way you all won't forget our favorite characters in Kirkwall, nor the impact of the Hawke family's rise to prominence is having on the rest of the populace or its key figures. But we will see more of the Wardens in the future; and we won't stay in the Deep Roads for too much longer, that's for sure.

So, until the next chapter, please leave comments and thoughts in the Review section below. See you later!


	4. A Road Not Taken

Madness.

That was what this battle has become. Where the previous encounters proved to her that unlike her dealings with bandits, coterie, mages, demons and templars were nothing compared to the fearsome monstrosity of the darkspawn, this was an entanglement she hadn't experienced before. Yes, even in the expedition she shared not more than a month ago she had with Varric and her brother she didn't discover a horde of Spawn of this level of volume nor of the disturbing features these particulars carried.

The hunched, were-beasts known as Shriekers were the sneakiest of their kin. Having the ability to slink into the shadows effortlessly and disappear in an instant, they were fast as they were capable of ambushes. Where they lacked their brethren's armor plating or thick skin they made up for with powerful muscles, feral hind and foreclaws with serrated teeth easily able to rend through leather and light armor with ease.

Had she not been surrounded by such physically capable warriors, she knew she would have been felled in an instant to these ferocious creatures.

Her eyes continuously scanned the moving floor of corpses that made up this burial ground of Spawn and Dwarf alike. They constantly shifted, maneuvering beneath as much as over with the trampling movement of their enemies. While the majority continued to barrel towards them with rampant rage, others used their kin's aggression to their advantage to hide again and emerge when they'd least suspect.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Oghren howled out in a fury she hadn't seen of him since they first met. The black armor of the Legion of the Dead was thick with burgundy fluids, the ax in his hand clinging and crunching through several of the were-beasts in power contrast to his stature. He wielded his double-bladed pole-handled weapon with such ease, she wondered if he could throw the creatures as well as cut them down.

Amidst her distraction on enemies coming across the ground, she felt her neck become entangled in something sticky and her body yank painfully upwards.

She let out a cry, her eyes going wide and her mouth agape as she nearly let go of her staff as she was hauled upwards. Pulled up with surprising speed, she barely had time to look up to see the looming shadow of one of the crystalline-thorax spiders. With glowing red eyes and a mouth that twined up the thread it spat beneath its mandibles, it hungrily opened its jaws to reveal jewel-like daggers for teeth. Her headache increased the closer she got to the thing, but her panic and the adrenaline pumping through her robed person reminded her she hadn't time to dwell on mundane discomforts.

A singing arrow landed square between the mouth, burrowing deep in its oral cavity and sprayed blood over Celestia's head and face in a shower of gore. Closing her eyes before the dank liquid could sting them, she hacked as she twisted her stave around and channeled kinetic forces through it. A mana lit ball of power formed on the head of her pole-handle, and she whipped blindly at what she perceived was its head.

_CRACK!_ Went the vulnerable skull of the largely crystal covered spider, causing it to let go of the web holding her awry, sending her falling down out of control. Unable to open her eyes for fear of blindness, she yelled out in terror of landing painfully down without any way of bracing her fall. Just when she thought she'd feel the force of her impact, she'd feel a pair of arms and the sound of something skidding bounce her in a tense but secure grip.

Wiping her eyes free of the foul smelling ichor, she blinked blearily up at Nathaniel whom simply gave a grim smile at her sweaty but alive person.

"Are you alright, my lady?" He asked in a reverent manner despite his usual grim tone still in action.

"I will be when all of these _things_ are dead!" Celestia spat, righting herself up from his arms, allowing him to hoist his bow from his shoulder back into his hands. Flashing a faint smile, she summoned her strength once again as she held her stave in both hands. "But yes, thanks to you."

"You're," Nathaniel began to say, notching an arrow back quickly to his cheek and letting it loose, slaying a leaping Shrieker that fell short of Celestia's flank, gurgling its last breaths as he sighed with a nodding affirmation. "Welcome."

"**HRESTVOG KNURLAR! HRESTVOG KNURLAR!**"

"Yeah, I heard ya the first time!" Oghren replied back, watching the enormous tower of moving metal swing its arms like bludgeons into the bodies of lyrium infected spiders and the slew of Shriekers. The force behind each of its limbs was enough that a single swipe was all it took for most of its attacks to slay a creature, if not several, at once. Blood sprayed over its pulsing red gem laced body, coursing it with an enduring crackle that intensified with every passing second.

An ominous thrum continued to sound off that even Jorge, ahead of the group with his pendulum swinging great sword, could tell something was wrong.

"What's it doing?!" Asmund cried out, deflecting a blow from a lunging spider with his shield, shoving it off with a thrust of his arm and a swing of his sword cutting into its eyes.

"It feels like it's..._charging_...something," Celestia intoned gravely, looking over with widened eyes as tendrils of mana crackled in and around its steel frame. It being near the back of them seemed like a good idea, at the time, when the horde had descended. Now she was starting to back away towards the front as flashes of crimson and white began to cascade the air, vibrating the earth, and shaking the cavern as a result. "Everyone, get behind me!"

"Oh Maker no!" Alistair swore, his body twisted between a spider and a Shrieker, diving headlong behind their recently acquired mage while the others rushed behind her.

It was seconds before they'd see what Celestia was warning them about.

The pulsing flashed wildly around the lyrium that was soaked the most in the Spawn's blood. Cracking ribbons of crimson spiraled like tendrils from its body, snapping and cracking against the air or earth. What the light touched vaporized the Shriekers, reducing them to flaming ashes. When the lyrium infested spiders were struck, the gems reacted violently, exploding them from the inside out in a cacophony of explosions that detonated in and around the horde of creatures that flocked towards the golem.

Finally, the Steel King raised its massive pillars of metal for arms and smashed the earth. Scarlet light distended the ground, bending the floor downward like rippling water as the rest of the earth rose up in a rising tide of bodies, ancient masonry and burgundy hued mana. The sheer momentum of its destructive attack was that it shook the thaig's cavernous enclosure like a massive quake.

"Maker, give me strength!" Celestia prayed aloud, earning a look or two before she clanged her stave against the ground, erecting a Force Barrier of kinetic energy that rivulets in shimmering white. The opaque shield rippled and shimmered against the rolling wave of debris and disintegrating energy that the golem unleashed. Grinding her teeth, she bared her whites and creased her brows to the point she squinted her eyes shut. Hands squeezed her pole handle so tightly the knuckles turned white and her legs buckled under the strain of augmenting what power remained in her for absolute defense.

When she opened her eyes, the assault on the barrier had finally ceased. Releasing it with a stagger, she felt herself caught by the arms by Nathaniel and Sael'sa, the pair looking with concern at her while the others looked at the devastation that was wrought.

"By Andraste," Alistair muttered, his eyes looked on with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

"That monster destroyed them all," Jorge began to utter, his own voice filled with an apparent fear they hadn't felt from the staunch man of brawn and skill since they first met him. "In one strike, the creature just killed all of them as if they were nothing."

"To think Caridin wasn't the only one to have made a golem of such potency," Oghren commented, looking to Celestia as she finally stood on her feet, blinking blearily at her surroundings as he hefted his ax over his shoulder. "You certainly saved our arses, pale head."

Hawke finally saw what they were all commenting about. What used to be the fallen remains of dwarves long since left to calcify through age and whatever had poisoned the rest was now just a scorched fissure of upheaved land. The faces of the ruined buildings was covered in blood, ash and more earth than before, stretching from the entrance to the thaig all the way through the center of the underdark city. Looking around with her own wide eyed blinks of fathoming, the steel golem began to thud forward, causing her to grip her staff and raise it defensively as it trudged back to their midst.

It didn't say a word. It simply looked down at Oghren with a sense of weariness that she somehow understood without it expressing anything akin to a human look. Her eyes drifted over on the vapor exuding from its gleaming gems of lyrium, encrusted in its shoulders and running down veins to its massive arms. The glow in its eyes still burned like the opening of a furnace, and its jagged shaped jaw of slitted strips of metal seemed to breathe out a heavy sigh; releasing what looked like more lyrium vapor from what counted as the golem's insides.

"Everyone," Celestia finally spoke aloud, looking to the rest with a stunning realization as their attention turned to her. "I think...I think I know what that lyrium is."

"What?" Asmund asked first before the others could, leaning his winged-helm to the side with morbid curiosity.

"That...red lyrium," She began to say, pointing at the pulsing magic still flowing strong within the golem. "Is rife with the Blight."

"How can you tell?" Alistair asked, his left brow raising dubiously, in time to signal a shrug of his. "Because, I can tell you, other than a weird feeling I don't sense it as a Darkspawn."

"And if you can't tell," Oghren gestured to the silent steel giant. "It doesn't look like its a friend of them Blighters either."

"No, you don't understand," Hawke shook her head, waving her hand at the red lyrium infested within its plated frame. "That golem has been killing darkspawn for eons. Lyrium, in its raw form, can be molded and refined by an outside interference. But instead of enchantment, it was...poisoned," She turned her head from them, gesturing with a nod towards the steel giant's pulsing eyes. "The lyrium has a potent reaction to outside magical forces, and usually has a tendency to explode, right? What if this Steel King has been bathed in so much Darkspawn gore that it has turned the inside of it out with nothing but its taint?"

"It _did_ have a particularly violent reaction once the blood was splattering on its more prominent focus crystals," Asmund noted, sheathing his sword and hoisting his shield back over his back with a scrutinizing glare towards the golem. "And it seems to talk about the _Dead Blood_ as if it was intimately aware what came with the creatures."

"We need to report this to the Commander," Alistair declared, his voice gaining a sense of authority rare from the lighthearted blonde. Looking to Oghren, he nodded to him with a questioning look in his eyes. "Oghren, can you convince him to stay put and await contact from us? We can make use of studying what's left of this place, and him, when we return to Vigil's Keep."

"I don't think he needs to be told, but sure, I'll give him nice orders to stay put like a good golem," The red-haired dwarf chuckled dryly beneath his octagonal shaped helmet.

Once the former warrior caste began to mutter dwarva to the steel golem, Alistair turned to the others and gestured back towards the entrance to the thaig, "Let's regroup with the others. I think we found a substantial find and cleared out a good number of darkspawn to call this a worthwhile expedition."

"Well we certainly spilled enough blood, that's for sure," Celestia snarked with a wry smile.

"I second that," Nathaniel grimly accounted with a half grin of his own. "It'll take awhile to wash away the filth from just their innards."

"We did agree on a rendezvous point, right?" Asmund inquired with a turn of his covered head.

"Yes, near the crossing from our entrance into the Deep Roads," Alistair answered with a nod. "And before you ask, yes, I marked it on our map."

"Good thing someone remembered," Jorge commented, his deep voice releasing a shudder as he shook his head. "Last thing we need is to be lost like last time."

"That was only for three days, it wasn't that bad," The field commander argued; before he lowered his raised hand and rolled his eyes. "Of course, the three ogres did make it more than a bit of bad. Okay, it was pretty bad, but I remembered this time!"

"Someone has to," Nathaniel snorted with humor.

"Are you sure you're the leader here?"

Alistair turned to Celestia, balking at her comment as if he was wounded. With his face pulled back to a look of hurt, he placed a hand dramatically on his chest, before letting out a low pitched whine, "Oooooh, that hurt. It really did. It's almost like making me leader of anything is a bad idea."

"Do you want to argue that semantic with the Commander?" Sael'sa asked genuinely to the older Warden.

"No-No-No!" He shook his hands with his head in quick rebuke. "Last thing I need is hearing _him_ give me a stern talking to; and it's likely he'd do it in person, just to rub it in."

"Who's the Commander?" Hawke asked genuinely. Earning a look from nearly every Warden present, she looked at them all with owlish blinks. With a shrug, she asked a simple, "What?! It's an honest question!"

"You've never heard of the Warden Commander?" Asmund questioned with a pair of blinking eyes behind his helmet.

"I only knew of the Wardens in hearsay," She answered honestly, a look of exasperation crossing her face as she hunched forward. "I had a lot more things to worry about for the past year than read up history of your clandestine order."

"Well, if you didn't know," Howe proclaimed gutturally with a grim line across his pursed lips. "He's the King of Fereldan."

"You mean," She suddenly pictured an older patron of the Hanged Man tavern, talking about the same Warden in passing and a look of dawning lit up behind her eyes. "It's the _Hero of Fereldan_ whose your Commander?!"

"Gee, that took awhile for ya to figure out," Oghren sarcastically spoke with a snorting chuckle.

"I've heard the tales, but I never believed that he was the King and your Commander!" Celestia exclaimed with excitement. Silver eyes lit up with a gleam of intrigue, her body moving towards Alistair with a broad grin spread across her face. "You're the other Warden from the story, aren't you?! Did you see the Archdemon get slain in person?! What was it like in Orzammar? Did you really fight a High Dragon in the Frostback Mountains?"

"Whoa-Whoa, slow down with the questions!" Alistair raised up a single hand to placate the newest recruit. Though he didn't disarm her enthusiasm, as his smile dictated he was endeared to her vigor for knowledge of the past. "Tell you what. Once we get out of here and find a good place to camp for the day, I'll tell you as much as you want."

"I'll back him up on the details!"

"No you won't, you'll just make things up," The senior Warden glared down at the shortest of his colleagues.

"It's called _enchanting_ the epic tale, ya daft nughumper!"

"There is nothing enchanting of what you do," Nathaniel pointed out, earning an agreeing nod from the others at his statement being factual.

Celestia was truly enamored by what she had learned. Not only did she figure out the mystery behind the Red Lyrium that the Primeval Thaig had been covered with, but the source of its color and power could potentially match what she had witnessed. It wasn't set in stone that what she claimed was entirely truth, but perhaps a nugget of it could be held in check when experts from the headquarters of the Wardens returned here.

Not only that, but her discovery of whom Alistair really was shocked her. He didn't seem like a hero out of the legend that Bhodan had spoken of. Not that he in particular mentioned him a whole lot, but he seemed so...oddly normal...in comparison to the tales that surrounded him. Not discounting his ability to take action and make decisions, he truly seemed like someone with no obvious talents that set him apart from the others.

As soon as they departed, she wondered if the Steel King would still be standing or his thaig not be brought to ruin? She could hope, if only because of the implications of the history that resided within the ancient burial ground that was once home to the oldest of dwarven people. Looking back once more, she saw the glimmer of crimson as the golem looked back at them and said an old phrase that Oghren translated for her.

"**Atrast nal tunsha; may you always find your way in the dark.**"

* * *

Carver Hawke hated Darktown.

The young man had lived for the past year paying his debt off to the Red Irons and every time he was told to make a trek through the undercity, the place revealed to him just how grim a place Kirkwall really was. Where Low Town was full of the desperate, the infirm or the criminal, Darktown was an element of dead ends where there was little to no hope of ever escaping. The only reason people went this far beneath the city's surface was to deal with the Coterie, the biggest criminal element of the City State, or to hide for whatever reason due to the lack of patrols the City Guard had for the least safe area known.

He made his complaints vocal to his sister about how Meeran seemed to purposefully get them in spots of trouble whenever they had a job down there; to which he had the expected rebuke from his equally argumentative sibling. She had said that it was a place where they could hone their talents without people looking cross at them and refine what they had learned either from father -or in Carver's case, King Cailan's Army- to become that much stronger. He knew she was right, but it never made the trips any more pleasant whenever he walked the filthy roads beneath the Sun.

Even after more than a month in the Deep Roads he didn't care for the place. Taking a lift downward, he saw the dim light of torches on decrepit walls of ugly bricks and mortar, while burning trash also lit up other spots that the more publicly available luminescence presided. He past by Tomwise, whom had his little bench and seat still occupied by the slender built elf. He must have not seen him pass by, as he walked casually in his platinum colored plate-mail armor. With a black handled greatsword slung over his shoulder, he drew looks from the usual squatters, beggars, and shadier denizens of the undercity but none attempted to get close.

It might have been that sour glare that creased over his brow that projected to everyone of near proximity he wasn't to be crossed.

Walking up and down a flight of flimsy made steps, Carver caught sight of the horizon's gleam and the open sea, the only truly beautiful sight Dark Town had to offer this far beneath the upper levels of the city. The docks here weren't official, made of cheap lumber and crafted in the lowest levels of the unruly quarter, but wasn't unordinary to have discreet ships come in at night for a number of illicit purposes. One time it was a smuggler's craft that Meeran ordered him and Celestia to guard, another it was a rival group of mercenaries that slighted the Red Irons that they were ordered to put down.

More often that not, however, it was a hub rife with Coterie and Tevinter Slavers. They often worked together more than he liked, and the dealings done here were always done out of sight but never out of mind. None dared to interrupt these dealings and it was only once that his sister had walked boldly into the midst of a group of slavers; thankfully, Fenris was there to help put the fear of the Maker -or more likely the fear of his unnatural magic brands- into them, and their slaughter was guaranteed.

Still didn't stop the host of slavers that'd ambush them repeatedly over the course of a couple of weeks while they rounded up coin for the expedition.

Dwelling on the past made Carver almost smile, if not for the memory of watching his sister get taken away by the Wardens. The look of sickness in her face hadn't stopped the glint of determination in her eyes. He could tell that, even at her weakest, she had more strength of will than he ever had with his blade. The image of her farewell etched into his mind and haunted his nightmares, two weeks in on his return home. It was something his mother hadn't quite forgiven him for, nor he forgave himself.

Just as he was about to make a left turn towards his impending destination, he found his path blocked by a trio of short, sketchy looking dwarves. The one up front had a brown beard, messy and left to hang over his leather armor with a hood wrapped over the majority of his brand covered forehead. The other two beside him had crude looking masks wrapped in some mishmash of rusty plating and a sheet of chainmail over the face just beneath slits for the eyes.

He didn't need to ask to know that these dwarves were part of the Coterie, and his sour disposition turned even more foul. Glaring at them, he balled his hands into fists at his side as he snarled at the three criminals in front of him, "I don't recall dealing in drugs or slaves recently, so beat it."

"Now now, that's no way to talk to someone," The hooded dwarf said with a sly grin, the wrinkles under his eyes bagged did nothing to show a sign of endearment to the human warrior. "Especially when they got friends in every place worth having."

"I've already learned the hard way that your kind are the furthest things from being friendly," Carver sneered, his hand already grabbing the handle protruding from his back. "I'm already in a bad mood, so why not save yourselves and get out of my way?"

"Being friends with us would be profitable, if you knew how to rein in that tongue of yours, human."

It was the last thing the dwarf would say.

Despite being heavily armored, Carver moved with speed that would surprise even the most seasoned of combatants. Dashing forward, the behemoth blade would be unlatched from his back and swing in a pendulum arc down towards the Coterie agent. He reveled in seeing the dwarf's smug expression turned to stark horror as his hands couldn't move to the pair of daggers on his own back in time. From his skull down in a perfect bifurcation, the small stout form of the dwarf was split in two along with the ground he stood on, the loud crash creating a flash of debris and sparks that stunned the pair that stood on either side.

Not losing momentum of his advantage, Hawke turned his body around like a twister, grinding the blade's edge around the shattered earth to strike both Coterie agents' drawn blades with enough power to stagger them. Leaping up into the air a good five feet, he drove down his blade through the rightmost agent's defense and pulverize him in a shower of blood and leather. Even as the leftmost dwarf leapt forward with a spiraling thrust towards a crease in his left hip, he deflected the smaller blade with his armored left arm, bringing the blade's pommel around to crack it against the metal mask hard enough to bring him stumbling onto his backside.

With no mercy shown, Carver raised his blade and cut him down with another loud crashing cut, the ring of his weapon made perfectly audible for any wary observers of the encounter.

Breathing through his nostrils, the bloodier Hawke stood erect and looked around, scanning for any potential reinforcements. Nay, he saw only a handful of curious onlookers that ranged from a shady cutpurse to a few likely beggars. They scattered as he made a move towards them, making him snort with grim amusement. Shaking the flecks of grime and blood off his sword, he raised it with a simple heft and hooked it back in place over his back, trudging back towards his destination.

"Damn Coterie. You'd think after a year of Celestia and I kicking their tails, they'd have taken a hint," Carver grumbled to himself. He knew inwardly the real reason why gangs like these have been especially tenacious in dogging him as he walked the streets of Kirkwall alone. Ever since he and Varric made good on the selling of their loot from the Deep Roads, word has spread around fairly quickly of the success of the very public expedition that was mounted over a month ago. It was especially notable that, those of the underworld's concerns, that Celestia was nowhere to be seen and their primary worry of running into the dangerous mage was gone.

It was just the younger, less popular brother and he kept the money far away from Gamlen's hovel to ensure it wouldn't go missing, or his mother would possibly get harmed in the crossfire of greed and malicious intent.

But the vast fortune his mother and himself now possessed wasn't on him physically; just a coin purse he kept behind the buckle of his armor's belt. '

Bringing this purchase of wealth, he arrived at the place he had sought to go; the underground clinic of Dark Town. It was the only one that everyone from Low Town and downwards went to get treatment none would hand over reasonably or fairly. A particular person worked there that all those who benefited defended fiercely and depended on incredibly for his assistance.

Pushing the door open, the blood soaked Carver would see Anders busying himself over what looked like a thin looking elf. His hands were surging with a luminous glow of mana, gesturing with his right hand purposefully down and up, while keeping the left prostrate over the stomach. Each time his right hand gestured, bile of a grotesque color escaped the elf's mouth and the definite color of toxins claiming the ooze from his orifice. After a minute of this, the elf's complexion returned to its ordinary color, and he weakly looked up with appreciation.

"You...saved me," He wheezed out with sweat caking his skin. "Thank you."

"You should thank me by taking better care of yourself," Anders reprimanded, albeit softly, as he looked down with disapproval at the young man. "Just because things grow in Dark Town doesn't mean you should eat it when you go hungry. If you're looking for food, look for the shelter in Low Town; I promise they'll provide for you when you see them in the morning."

"I-I will go," The elf nodded with thanks. "May the Maker smile upon you, kind stranger."

As he departed, he narrowly skirted around Carver, ignoring the fact a man in full armor sans helmet was covered in blood. A fact that Anders didn't miss as the mage looked on with a raised brow of concern.

"It's not mine," Carver said grimly, adding with a slight smirk. "Not this time, anyways."

"A walk alone in Dark Town is always asking for trouble," Anders said honestly. "Though, why you come here if you didn't need healing, is beyond my understanding."

"I came to repay you," The younger Hawke sibling answered, earning a raised brow by the feather-shouldered mage. Reaching beneath his belt buckle he produced a small pouch, jingling it in hand before tossing it underhand to be caught by a swift palm of Anders. "For your help in the Deep Roads; and for helping my sister as best as you could."

"You don't need to repay me for-"

He stopped short. As he weighed the purse of money in hand he slipped a thumb between its worn opening and peeked inside. His eyes immediately went wide and his whole body turned around, concealing his rapid counting of the coins inside and ensuring their worth. Once he tightened the strong on the bag, he turned around and handed the bag back towards the brunette, dark eyed young man.

"Keep it," Carver insisted with a clinking raise of his plated hand. "It's yours, fairly earned."

"I-It's too much," Anders lamented, attempting to keep his voice down as to not alarm the poor and ill nearby within the hovel of a clinic. "I can't keep this!"

"Yes you can," The bigger, younger warrior said with less humor and more seriousness. "And you will. I won't have you trekking into the Deep Roads for our benefit when you clearly didn't like it anymore than we did; perhaps more than that."

Chuckling nervously, the mage scratches his cheek idly as he nervously clutches the coin purse in his grip, "Yes, well. Try not to make it a habit. I hate the blighted Deep Roads."

"After what we went through?" The armored man retorted with a humorless voice, turning his back to the mage as he trudged out of the clinic with only a backwards wave to the apostate. "You couldn't pay me to go back down that place."

* * *

Exiting the clinic, the sole remaining child of the Amell and Hawke families stewed in his thoughts. He was reminded yet again, in the absence of previous company, why he didn't become tainted yet his sister did? He was left with the burden of filling the void that his older sister had that he both envied and took for granted. Many of his old contacts were surprised when he informed them she was likely not coming back, either lamenting her business or the sheer wit of her presence had whenever she was around.

Not desiring to return to Gamlen's house while the process of the estate's acquisition was still underway -at least for just for a quick rest before going back out away from his now unreasonable uncle-, he set off towards Lowtown. Darktown was left behind without incident, thankfully, as the Coterie and nobody else wanted to mess with the bloodstained man with a large sword aloft on his back. Taking the lift back up, he'd exit with nary a soul who wanted to take it back down. Patrols of City Guard gave him glances but nothing else, and the average scrapper that trudged the dingy dirt for a street didn't pay him a mind as he walked with a weary purpose.

The creaking sway of a sign overhead was ignored as he pushed the door open with one hand and walked inside with audible clinks and clanks. Entering he was greeted with the odiferous whiff of rancid booze and the dank smell of unbathed patrons seated, wafting their scent in the air with little to no circulation met within the rotted wooden enclosure. Still better lit than most buildings, he took the opportunity to head to the bar counter to order a drink. The sound of a bard could be heard playing in the corner, playing on what he could assume was a stringed instrument and humming a pleasant tune; one of the only respites he'd have before the sober reality of his life resumed in full force.

"Well there _you_ are!" A familiar, sultry voice sounded adjacent to his counter as he rested his hands on his own.

His eyes looked tiredly at the dark skinned Rivaini woman, her black hair loosely swaying over her neck and kept out of her face thanks to the blue styled scarf tying the top half back. With her bust exposed in her satin white sleeveless shirt, the partially armored arms of leather and a single metal pauldron on her left shoulder was seen as she held what looked like a mug in one hand and palming the counter's flat with her spare hand. She sounded no worse for wear, despite the definitive smell of alcohol perspiring from her person strongly from the few meters separating them.

"I was wondering when you were going to come by," Isabella drawled out, leaning forward in a suggestive way as she stared at him with a curled smile at the stony expression the young man had. "Where you've been, all covered in blood like that?"

"Not that its your business," He replied with a snort, gesturing to the barkeep who gave a curt nod and began filling up another of the wooden mugs in the back of the stall."But I went to repay an old debt in Darktown. The Coterie thought I should pay them protection; I proved that I don't need protecting."

"Clearly," She chuckled, taking a halfhearted swig as he was given his own mug. Peeking from over the lip of her own cup, she'd see he gulped down the foul swill without hesitation, merely coughing a bit hoarsely before nodding to the expectant tavern employee. Seeing a shake of a head, he'd go to refill it, while Carver coughed a bit more with watery eyes, looking over dryly at his drinking acquaintance. "I'm not ready to go back to Gamlen's yet."

"I don't know how any of your family stood being indebted to that pig of a man," Isabella commented wryly, her face scrunching up with disgust at the remembrance of the grotesque member of the Hawke family. "I'd have sooner sold myself into slavery before I'd owe that man a single copper."

"No you wouldn't."

"You're right," She answered without skipping a beat, a humored grin wrapped around her cheeks as Carver stared at her with near disbelief. "I'd have kicked him in the balls first opportunity I had and strike out on my own."

"Must be nice," He spoke lowly.

"What is, little mabari?"

"To not give a damn about other people," Carver answered icily taking a mouthful of the sour drink before letting it burn down his weakened throat. Glancing her way, he saw that he managed to remove the smile off her face but she didn't look hurt; she looked off-put, if not a bit curious.

"Why should I?" Isabella questioned with a frown, standing more upright, waving with her other hand for emphasis. "I'm a Captain without a ship, a woman without man to be tied to, and a duelist without a proper challenge. What do I gain by trying to take responsibility for people who are as temporary as the tides on a beach?"

"That seems to be a personal problem," He grunted with a shake of his head, eyes peering down at the stirring liquid bubbling within his mug. "What am I but a man tied to responsibility to my dwindling family and stuck in the shadow of a sister whose long gone? Even when I finally get her out of my hair it's...not what I wanted," Carver expressed, not aware of how much he was confessing to the likes of someone like the Rivaini woman standing apart from him. "I don't know what I even wanted with my sister not looming over me."

"Sounds like what you need is some direction in your life," She suggested, her voice becoming a bit more lighthearted as she realized the nature of his sour attitude. Gesturing offhandedly, she released hold of her drink and kept watch of his facial reactions as she'd mention carelessly. "Why not join the City Guard? With Aveline becoming captain, I'm sure you'll rise quickly in the ranks if you behave yourself."

"Nice joke, Isabella," Carver snorted, smiling halfheartedly as he returned to down another sour tasting gulp of unholy fluid for booze. "I hate that bitch more than I can't stand your teasing."

"Haha, okay," She laughed with concession, tapping her chin with a purr as she began to think aloud. "How about joining the Templars? I hear they desperately need more men since the Knight Commander's put them to the grindstone of weeding out those _terrible_ blood mages. Or, was it just mages in general?"

"Maybe," He replied, though he didn't look entirely convinced, despite being on his way to inebriation. "I-I could've been a Grey Warden i-if I was the one who was...f-freakin' blighted."

"Or you could've been dead," Isabella pointed with a finger and a sloppy smile. "Working with maybes doesn't help with the future, does it?"

"Shut it," Carver snapped in a slur, leaning slightly forward with a stagger. "K-Keep it coming; and you with the s-suggestions. I-I like hearing m-my options."

"You don't need to work for somebody to find yourself a new path, Carver," Isabella answered honestly, grabbing the handle to her mug with a soft smile and a wink. "Some of the best men I ever met never worked for me. Perhaps all you need to do is work for yourself and you can truly carve a name out for yourself?"

"T-That was a terrrrrrible joke," Carver slurred, pointing to her while spilling some of the brew onto the counter.

"Pun unintentional," She raised a hand in mild defense, though she raised her brows as she pointed to him. "You've just got here and you're already-wait, were you here earlier?"

"This morning," He admitted with a slight smirk, though it ended up looking more silly than it did smoldering. "I had to g-get out of G-Gamlen's house. I jusssst couldn't take his...take his...his _shit_!"

"I don't think anyone would want his money, let alone his shit," Isabella laughed with a shake of her head. "You should probably just book a room here for the night. If they come looking for you, I'll just tell them you were busy elsewhere."

"No you woooon't-"

Carver finally had all he could handle.

His face thudded against the counter and his body slumped with a sloppy clang to the floor, leaving the mug to fall with a messy clang behind his strewn frame. A few exclamations, turns of the head and a cawing comment was made before everybody returned to their business. It wasn't uncommon that customers and patrons of the Hanged Man would drop, but the state of dress he was in was far more expensive and equipped than most commoners of Lowtown. Left alone, he probably would be robbed and left in some backwards alley for him to be murdered or kidnapped.

Sighing, Isabella set down a handful of coins onto the counter and bent down to grab Carver by the hands, beginning the arduous pull of his unconscious form across the floor.

"Seriously, you little mabari," The Rivaini grunted as she hauled him across the floor and up the stairs towards the rented spaces above. "Either you need -unf! To lose the muscle -huff! Or dress-hrrgh! In less heavy-mmmf!" She ended with her reaching the second floor, kicking the nearest door open and dragging him inside with a heaved exhale. "Hah-Hah-Hah, _protection_."

Lying there, inert, she felt a sudden temptation stir inside of her. Apart from the shadows encroaching along his eyes from a lack of proper sleep, the chiseling of masculine adulthood was being formed around the jawline and developed tenuous muscles down his neck into the space she knew was his collarbone. He was a handsome lad, and it was only a matter of time before he'd truly become a man she'd definitely be fantasizing about. The time of her teasing would soon become genuine flirting and she now began to fear that day was coming quicker than she took for granted.

Spitting into her palms, she rubbed them together and bent down, huffing as she hauled him from beneath his shoulders and dragged him to the cot that was far nicer than any average bedding would be in Lowtown average. Not bothering with unclasping his armor, she simply wrapped a quilt that was cast aside over him, and left her hand drift gently over his dirty, sweat coated scalp. Grinning, she placed a moist kiss on his cheek and waved enticingly at his unconscious form before she left in her usual seductive, swaying trot outside of the room.

A clink of the door, she leaned against the frame with a heavy sigh, "Next time, Isabella. _Next time._"

* * *

It was definitely a different place of entry into the Deep Roads, that much was clear to Celestia Hawke.

The Deep Road Entrance that Bartrand had picked was not more than a handful of kilometers outside of the City State's limits of established civilization. It took under an hour for the whole crew to find the sloping tunnel that was once an abandoned attempt to mine but was left for the obvious of reasons. There was sparse resistance going in and it'd take nearly a week before they even encountered darkspawn in a large number. The tunnels were decrepit and worn down, with ruined passages littering each and every other fork that could've turned into a different direction.

Here, she felt like they were going in a serpentine sway within the underdark. Twists and turns down to a more polished highway where the marks of battle was more succinct and easily read. It was clear that the darkspawn that traveled this path met little resistance and anything that got in their way was annihilated in what she could only predict was an army of the Spawn.

The walk was filled with amicable conversation between the group that she had offered her own thoughts on the matter from time to time, though her silence led her to stew in her thoughts. Red Lyrium, the Steel King, a graveyard of dwarves and evidence of them possibly being linked to the Primeval Thaig to some capacity. She tried to understand how it'd all make sense; if the thaig they -her brother and Varric- had discovered was indeed older than the First Blight, then how would the taint affecting lyrium make any sense? Was there something beyond simply Darkspawn that manufactured this corrupted, blood colored crystal of magic?

Chewing her lips, Sael'sa eventually looked in her direction and gently nudged her with his gauntlet wrapped wrist.

"Hm?" She snapped up, realizing she was idly moving with the group without paying attention to her surroundings.

"You've been quiet for awhile now," The Elf Warden mentioned with an audible smile. "Must be still reeling from our battle with the Darkspawn, huh?"

"Kind of, yeah," She halfheartedly agreed, not entirely sold that the Spawn were anymore dangerous than Tevinter Slavers or Blood Mages when fought in smaller numbers. No, what alarmed her beyond their monstrous nature and disgusting appearance was their seemingly endless numbers; that and them seeming to pop up wherever mountains of dead were left seemingly untouched for millennia.

"Is it that thaig we discovered?" Nathaniel asked pointedly. Nodding with agreement, the Howe looked at her thoughtfully before looking ahead at the backs of his other colleagues. "Aye, it was indeed a strange place. Even though I am no expert when it comes to being a Grey Warden myself, the thaig I visited first was Kal Hirol, the infamous Dead Trenches according to the Legion of the Dead. Bizarre as it was old and twisted it was nothing compared to the mausoleum of the maimed and broken that we discovered back there."

"Just be glad you didn't go hiking in Caridin's Thaig," Alistair piped up, his nonchalant sing-song voice breaching the grimness in a way that both eased and dramatically halted the tone of any current conversation. "That place was nothing but death traps upon death traps and..._surprise_...**more** death traps!"

"You're right; I am glad," Nathaniel dryly replied.

"I second that!" Celestia commented with a snicker, causing Sael'sa to snort and laugh behind his own helmet.

"Sometimes, you make me wonder joining you was a good idea," Asmund commented up ahead of Alistair's forward right.

"A bit late to be thinking that, hm?" Alistair questioned with a raised brow.

"Fair enough."

"I still can't believe it," Oghren's voice blithered, reminding everyone that he was right beside Celestia's right near the back of the group. Eyes turned to look at him and the berserker himself had been remarkably sober since departing. Looking up through his helmet, he exposited with raised hands, his voice filled with an exasperated tone somehow conveyed through his guttural voice. "We found a thaig that may be older than the blights. Not only that, but a golem that was fashioned not by Caridin's own Anvil of the Void. Do you know how much the Shaperate in Orzammarr is going to flip their tablets when they hear about this?!"

"I understand it will be quite a big shock," Alistair replied understandingly. "Your culture has lost a great deal, thanks to the Darkspawn. When they hear of what we mapped here and who we talked about, they'll be all the more eager to mount their own expedition to salvage what they can from that place."

"Will the Grey Wardens accompany them?" Celestia asked curiously.

"That's a good point," The Field Commander intoned, furrowing his brow confusedly over his shoulder at their mage companion. "I...don't know. Dwarves are very particular when it comes to their bureaucracies. They may welcome our aid but they may be really finicky about anyone coming with them. A matter of pride and all that."

"And ya wonder why our people have been dying out?" Oghren halfway commented on a serious topic, had it been said anywhere near his homeland. But since nobody seemed to bat an eye on what he was said, he figured it might have been just hyperbole on his part; he wished that wasn't the case.

"Up ahead," Jorge called ahead, his voice almost a bellow to cut short their conversing.

Peering ahead, Celestia saw the crossroads they had mentioned previously. A hall that veered to a dramatic left turn past what was a sloping pair of columns and a large plaque that was crumbled into the wall. Adjacent to the upcoming dramatic left turn was a right turn that was assuredly their way into the Deep Roads based on how it was angled in its infrastructure. Though it was not all just empty space; there was a group of armored and not armored individuals that all sat in attendance, seemingly long been there before they were.

"There they are," A woman said with a harsh, sharp voice. Standing upwards, she was the shortest of the company of four other Wardens, but she was perhaps the most modestly armored one. A feathered pauldron of an eagle jutted over the right shoulder while griffon heraldry emblazoned over a shapely breastplate over her bosom down to a thin plate that wrapped around her waist around her back up around her shoulders. She possessed a slight tanned complexion with tattoos framing her face from the forehead around her jawline over her chin beneath her lower lip, faint enough to not be obvious from afar but clear to see when seen up close. With a hip allotted skirt of blue linen similar to the sleeves she wore into her long brown leather gloves and boots, the woman possessed a sword on her hip and an oaken branch with gnarled frays at its top with a lyrium crystal embedded at its tip, firmly in her grasp.

"Vellanna! So good to see you!" Alistair greeted her jubilously, much to the woman's apparent chagrin; even from the back Celestia could hear her snort.

"Did you find _anything_, Commander?" She asked, the now apparently Dalish Elf asked as she scrutinized their appearances with her thin brow scowl. "This venture would be for naught if you came back emptyhanded."

"Your trip didn't go well?" He asked, his voice obviously laced with disappointment.

"No, we brought back a horde of dragon treasure and long lost dwarven maidens who'd love to make the gross one's acquaintance," She sarcastically threw her arms around with exasperation, causing the men behind her to chuckle lightly at her joking; regardless of her obviously sour mood.

"...don't toy with me, elf," Oghren grumbled morosely from the side, earning a raised brow from Hawke, making her wonder if he really got hopeful that was the case.

"Sorry to burst that brood bubble of yours," Alistair pepped up with a joyful smile, much to the Dalish's annoyance, swinging his arms back and forth before thumbing behind him in Celestia's direction. "Not only have we gained an unlikely recruit, but we found an ancient thaig; one that might predate the blights!"

"You don't say," Velanna screwed her brows forward, her gaze now squarely pointed towards the obvious head of silver standing near the others. "I feel the swirl of the Beyond about that one. You've managed to find a mage in the deep roads?"

"Apparently an old friend of ours was stumbling about in the Deep Roads," Alistair began to say, raising a finger before closing his mouth partway. Pausing earned enough of a confused stare from the Elven Mage, causing him to fumble for words as he gestured hurriedly between the two. "And, uh, she turned out to be really skilled and was really looking forward to joining our order. Yep! That's was all! Nothing else to really say about the matter unless you want to ask her yourself?!"

"No need," She sighed, glaring back at the distant peerless eyes of Celestia. "I'll find out soon enough."

"Haha, right," The Warden Field Commander nervously deflated, finding himself a bit at a loss. Deciding to move things along, he looked to the others standing near her, he raised a hand with declaration in his voice. "Alright, men. I know it's been a hard month and a half for us, but we've gathered what we can for now. It's time we head home and report our findings."

A spur of murmurs and relief filled the air, with all those in full knowing company shared their excitement or unfolding stress about leaving the Deep Roads.

"So," Celestia turned towards Sael'sa, asking the elf with a screwed brow of plain confusion to him. "What's home for the Grey Wardens?"

"Oh, I'm sure you might have heard us talk about it at some point," The Elven Warden enthusiastically explained with an audible smile. "Vigil's Keep. The fortress that withstood a massive siege by the darkspawn horde that was leftover from the 5th Blight."

"Currently it's being rebuilt back to its old glory," Nathaniel interceded with a turn of his head to grimly smile over his shoulder at the snow-haired mage. "But it's still quite a sight; no better place to speak of with reverence in Amaranthine than that castle."

"Speak for yerself," Oghren snorted, shaking his head with grim reminder of the siege. "I was there. Blighted fortress should've held out longer; maybe if it was dwarven and underground, maybe-"

"Wasn't your civilization overwhelmed underground by the darkspawn?" Sael'sa asked in a too innocent sounding query.

"Sod it, you!" He exclaimed.

"Well, I'll just have to be the judge of it once I see it," Celestia raised her hands persuasively to the pair. Then, a thought occurred as she lowered her arms down and she looked ahead with her smile lowering down, mouth opening. "Huh."

"What is it?" Nathaniel asked ahead of her.

"It just occurred to me," The pale headed eldest of Elandra stated with a look at the Howe. "This will be the first time I've been in Fereldan in over a year."

"You want to go visit your old home?" Sael'sa pointedly inquired with bated curiousness.

"I don't know," She lowered her head to gaze at the floor as they followed the lead of the other Wardens, finally beginning their journey onward out of the Deep Roads. "It's likely nothing will be the same. I doubt there's even a village with how many of the horde had swept past it."

"Well, if you do decide to go there -with permission, of course- I'll come with you," Sael'sa proffered with an apparent grin behind his winged-helm.

"Thanks," Hawke nodded with a sincere grin. "I'll definitely remember to invite you along, if I do go."

"Who's up for a song?!" Alistair questioned aloud, causing almost everyone in company to let out a belly aching groan. While Celestia could only wonder what the silly leader of this Grey Warden expeditionary force would sound like belting out tunes, she heard him sigh, and faintly heard him mention under his breath. "I miss Leliana. She made all of our walks so much more enjoyable."

* * *

**A/N**: And, in no time at all, a new chapter!

I thought to break up the dynamic of the two siblings by composing the sections in multiples, when it was called for. That way Celestia started and ended the chapter while Carver filled up the middle. Angst runs strong in the blood of the Hawke, that is true, but a lot of pondering was done on the future and what was the meaning behind the implications of the taint and lyrium itself.

Speaking of which, I felt it was a bit odd that we don't find out the true nature of Red Lyrium until much later into the Third Game. Like, couldn't we have figured out the cause and nature of it after nearly six years AFTER the Deep Roads Expedition? We don't even know what the Lyrium Idol's deal was, nor the ties the Primeval Thaig had to the dwarves, if any.

Criticisms aside, I did enjoy writing the action, keeping it short and dynamic so nothing drags out too much. With Celestia wondering what was the purpose of the old thaig and why the Blight seems to twist Lyrium if enough Spawn blood bathes it, Carver is wondering how he'll end up without his sister present. Will brother and sister find themselves in their new roles, or will they be lost and meander without aim or purpose? Find out in the next chapter!

See you all then!


	5. A Fond Homecoming

"Blessed Andraste," Leandra Hawke spoke aloud as she looked upon the once proud estate with awe and surprise. She had heard of the tale her children had told of how they infiltrated the den of slavers that took ownership from a debt Gamlen sought to pay for. The place was run down and she even crossed paths with the worn sorry excuse of a Hightown mansion. While not all of the expensive places rented by merchants or nobility were possessed at all times, nor were they always cared for, her ancestral family home was left in ruin thanks to her brother's neglectfulness and vice behavior.

Now, merely several weeks after Carver returned with fortune from the Deep Roads, she was finally home. The face of the structure was given a new coat of paint, old tiles of roofing replaced and even the street near its entry were freshly paved as if to encourage entry. While what things they were able to bring from Lothering was few -the things they wished to keep for the past year of living with Gamlen was even smaller- the immaculate nature reassured them that their few possessions wasn't necessary to return living in prosperity.

Looking to her son with an open mouth, Carver attempted to act composed as warmth flooded his cheeks out of reflex of the reaction he received.

"Were you-?"

"I...asked around," Carver dodged with a half smile, avoiding the confession of asking Varric if he knew people who could help renovate and possible refurnish the inside of the mansion. Thankfully, apart from some carpenters, mason craftsmen and some other skilled tradesmen, it was the impressionable dwarf merchant pair that helped with the cleaning and refurbishing on the inside. No doubt they were already inside, awaiting their timely arrival. "I thought instead of waiting to get the go ahead to move in, I took initiative to fix up your family estate. I hope you don't mind-"

"No, I'm just shocked," Leandra confessed, placing a hand over her mouth as she looked back at her childhood home. Tears were already welling up in her eyes as she held back a torrent of emotion that was about to burst from the seams from the inside. Closing her eyes, she was handed a handkerchief -again to her surprise- by Carver, allowing her to dry her tears with the soft silk now afforded to her. "Thank you, Carver. I'm just so...overwhelmed. I came by this place just to see it in person and it looked like it was in shambles. It looks as good if not better than I remembered!"

"If you think this is good," The younger Hawke intoned with a proud smile. "Wait till you see the inside."

Gesturing towards the front door, the son walked ahead and opened its polished handle, opening it in a smooth whoosh for her to casually enter inside. After she walked into the entryway, they were greeted by the immediate barking glee of the family's mabari -Mal, shorthand remembrance for their father- who leaped and skid about on its paws with hollering joy. Carver had ensured to leave the family dog to protect the mansion and gave his mother the previous excuse that he was taking the purebred out for lots of walks to keep it in shape so to not spoil the surprise.

As Leandra greeted the dog with a hug and grimacing acceptance of its endearing slobbery licks on her face, she used the handkerchief again to wipe away the sticky residue from her visage. Once Carver shut the door behind her he'd watch with contentment as she walked into the open living room, complete with a beautiful rug spread over lacquered wooden floor boards, a fireplace adjacent to the far right and multiple tables for paperwork strategically spread around the open vaulted ceiling mansion.

At their left, Bhodan walked forward and greeted her with a bow, surprising the older woman at his presence and sudden cordial behavior towards her.

"Hello Missus Amell. We haven't been formally introduced when we left for the Deep Roads," He explained with his greeting, rising to his stout height as he looked up at her with a trim-bearded smile that warmed her heart. "My name is Bodahn Feddic. I'm but a humble merchant who became acquainted with your fine children on the expedition. My son, Sandal," He gestured to his nearby, blonde and pale skinned adopted surrogate to come over so he could place an arm affectionately around his shoulder; earning a simple but endearing smile on his face. "Had gotten himself lost in the Deep Roads. After rescuing him from certain peril, I pledged I'd repay the debt anyway I could; which is why, from this point on, I shall ensure I will serve you Missus and your fine son for as long as you need us."

"Oh," Leandra said in surprise. After hearing the story, she looked at the pair's soulful eyes and the sincerity of his pledge touched her inside. With only a shy look at her son, she smiled and gave an agreeable nod to the honest merchant. "Well, I hope I won't be a bothersome hostess to you. I'll make sure to do you both right as the head of this house."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, Missus," He grinned cheerily at her, releasing his hug on the quiet spoken Sandal. "Now, if you wish, we can relieve you of your current burdens so you can change into proper clothes for indoors."

"O-Oh, yes," She agreed hastily, realizing she had kept them waiting with the trunks in their arms awaiting to be relieved by them. Sandal grabbed hold of hers while Bhodan took hold of Carver's.

"If you wish, we can remove your shoes for you-"

"No, we can manage, thank you," Leandra dismissed with an appreciative smile.

"Very well, Missus Amell," Bodhan nodded with affirmation. "My boy and I will take them to your rooms. If you want, you can follow us there so you can get changed right away."

"Oh, yes please," The grey haired woman gasped with sudden excitement. "You mentioned changing into new clothes?"

"Oh yes! We picked the finest clothes at reasonable prices so you can be both comfortable and stylish for both the convenience of your home or to tour the city's shopping districts," Bodhan replied back with a laugh.

Walking up the steps ahead of Sandal, leaving Leandra to walk slowly up with Carver in tow. The son looked back to see the mabari had curled up by the fire, watching them ascend with a panting mouth, its eyes showing that it was content to leave his masters to their domain. As soon as he looked up, they reached the top, passing by a balcony and a noticeable glittering chandelier across from the spindled hand rest that hung over the living room. Curtains were drawn back with burgundy colors, letting in the light of the noon day filter in and expose the happenings of their wealthy and noble neighbors nearby. Ahead, near the left facing wall was a shield with the crest of the Amell family suspended in place.

Carver noticed that the old family shield had been in the vault where he and his sister left it, now hung up on display as it was meant to for the restored estate. Gazing his mother's way, he looked on with a smile as she approached the iconic symbol of her family and placed a hand upon its cool surface, brushing her hands over its avian shaped red lines with a distinct sense of nostalgia. It was tinged with something else. Regret? Relief? He couldn't say.

"It feels good."

"What does, madam?" Bodhan asked, Sandal and him stopping short of the rooms to look at her with curiosity.

"Being an Amell again," She explained, turning about in her simple skirt to grin broadly. It was the first time that Carver saw his mother so happy in years. Not since his father was still alive and they all were living discreetly in Lothering, in fact. It was like a spark of life had reignited back inside his weary parent and she had confidence along with pride in herself once more. When she looked to Carver, the dwarven servants took stock of him as well, as she spoke to him directly with that near blinding smile of hers. "Carver, I cannot think of a way to show my gratitude to you. Much as it pains me to have lost Bethany and lonesome without Celestia you have kept yourself together even when I had felt like giving up. You did as you and your sister intended, to help get back what was lost to us. Thanks to you, I didn't just get back my home; I've regained my name."

"Mother," Carver answered, his own face becoming one of seriousness and reservation as he looked straight into her bluish eyes with his own darker orbs. "I'm not my sisters. I can't replace what was lost. But I promise to you I'll find my own way of paving a path that'd make you proud. I'm going to make the name of Hawke something to be remembered in Kirkwall, that I swear it."

"And I think Malcolm would have been proud to hear you say that," Leandra nodded with an acknowledging smile.

After only a few more moments of pause, the dwarves escorted them to their rooms so they could get themselves settled into their new lives, living in the ancestral home of the Amell Estate. Both knew one thing was certain; life was going to be very different from this point on. For good or ill...

* * *

The journey to their personal vessel, docked off the coast of Kirkwall, was a tiring march. While not a necessarily arduous travel like their time spent in the Deep Roads, the rolling hills bordering the city state's limits wasn't a comfortable locomotion. Dank mud and uneven foiliage was a hastle to maneuver in both armor and the gear they possessed. Even those of light possessions found themselves discontent with the arrangements, all too thankful for the sight of the rowboats they paid to ferry them back to their anchored ship.

Then, the sailing ship began its voyage across the Waking Sea eastward along the Coastlands towards the entry into Amaranthine Ocean. Unlike Celestia's previous journey in the moldy innards of the ship that carried them to Kirkwall she didn't feel sick leaving the city she inhabited with her mother and brother for the past year. Now she got to share hammock space with her fellow Grey Wardens and continue bonding with them over what they had experienced down in the Deep Roads; even the things she never got to experience was shared with her in great earnest, mostly by Sael'sa.

The group of Wardens that the Dalish Elf led was as varied of both heritage and placement, though they weren't all Fereldans from what she understood.

Gaël was from Halamshiral -an Orlesian city that was former capital of the Dales- having served as one of the chevaliers there until being recruited into the Grey Wardens' ranks. He had been drafted into repopulating the lost numbers the wardens lost from Orlais during the darkspawn war against Amaranthine. He was accompanied by Alphonse, another Grey Warden of Orlais, whom was of more simpler origins. The two were the senior wardens only by having missed the 5th Blight, thanks to Loghain's efforts to bar them entry into Fereldan.

The other two hailed from Nevarra and Antiva. The prior warden named Alexander had left his homeland in search of glory and recognition to bring one day back to his home country; despite the reservations of the order, he holds important political links that can be of use in the event such a scenario makes it necessary. The Antivan is named Marco Giovanni, by his remark, a would-be heir to some prince had he not been slaughtered along with most of his family. Determined to strike a life not of political intrigue and assassinations, Marco wants to take what talents he's acquired in trying to survive his homeland in culling the darkspawn menace.

Vellanna was someone that Celestia did her best to avoid. Despite most of her peers being quite friendly and even amicable to her course behavior, she was intimidated by someone so confrontational. Even Fenris didn't scare her as much, and he was a man who loathed the existence of mages with a branded power that could enable him to murder any of them who got in arm's reach. The Dalish Elf was beautiful yet obviously had something that pained her that she wished not to talk about herself; leading into any instance she tried to question her, Celestia chose to be dodgy or coy, relying on her new friends to calm the elf down so she could keep her own past to herself less she found out that she had nearly died to the taint.

It was hard enough for Alistair and the others to accept her as she understood it. If someone as harsh tongued as Vellanna found out, she didn't know how the ranks of the wardens would divide on the issue. She thought it best to keep it to herself at least until she met someone of higher authority who could calm dissent or rebuke of her origin.

"Hey!"

The peerless mage nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard an exclamation interrupt her hammock's sway. She had been lost in her thoughts, simply content in just getting shut eye while the others did various other things to pass the time; but found she couldn't acquire the rest. Now with the word sent her way, Celestia rolled off the roped bed and landed on all fours with a swaying tilt to the right.

Looking up, her silver eyes looked past her pale bangs up at Sael'sa, now bereft of his helmet and only in his iron plate mail.

"Oh, it's just you," She muttered with a sigh of relief.

"Is that a bad thing?" The Elf asked, his confusion mixing with a bit of hurt.

"No, it's far from it," She replied, hanging her head down as she pushed herself to her feet, again with a sway. Looking up at him in the eyes, she smiled lopsidedly as she shrugged with honesty. "I'm just trying to get used to everyone else."

"You mean Vellanna?" He asked pointedly, causing her to wince. Raising a hand, the younger warden shook his head dismissively with a reassuring smile. "Trust me, even I think she's scary, and we're both of the same people."

"Not everyone thinks highly of my recruitment," Celestia mentioned with a wary aversion of her eyes from his. "Do you think it was wise? Taking someone on their death's door into your fold?"

"Well, that's not really up to me," Sael'sa answered honestly with a shrug. "But it's not up to Vellanna, or any of us here. Only Commander Alistair has the authority to dictate who stays and who leaves the wardens. If he didn't think you even had a chance of surviving the Joining, he probably would have put you out of your misery right then and there."

"That's...comforting?" She replied, still dubious of how that was phrased from the junior warden.

"We've all seen you in action by now," He gestured with a grin of confidence. "You helped us as much as we covered you. Not to mention you totally saved our collective boots from being turned into sulfur by that crazy metal golem."

"I just did what comes naturally," Hawke wryly smirked, regaining her clever countenance as the young elf encouraged her. Waving a hand, she further exaggerated with a twinkle in her snow colored irises. "Just wave my staff, pray to the Maker I'm not going to explode, and make my enemies stop living. Or something to that nature."

"At least you're not like the mages who came the Alienage-" The Elf let slip, biting his tongue almost as suddenly as he spoke it.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," He dismissed, his face becoming darkened as he looked away from her. "Just leave it at that."

"That's...abrupt, but okay," Celestia shrugged with a face twisted with hurt confusion. "Would've liked clarification for that. But, I get it," Her face softened, turning into a sympathetic smile that he saw in his periphery of his turned head. "Tell me if I become someone comfortable to talk to about it."

"I just...don't generally trust mages, is all," Sael'sa explained with a shiver across his lips, his eyes turned towards hers with sadness emanating from them. "I've only known ones who lied and abused their power to take whatever they wanted from those who had little to nothing to start with. I prefer if they were locked up so they can't misuse their power, as the Maker would intend."

"Yet, you talk so freely with one?" The peerless eyed woman raised a brow with curiosity.

"You're a Grey Warden," He answered readily with a half smile. "We can't afford to judge our own. There's too much at stake when we all have a common goal and a mutual enemy we must purge from this world. You could have been the worst of your kind and we'd have accepted you if our leaders deemed it necessary.

"I trust you, Hawke, because you shown yourself to be of good character and a sincere desire to help your comrades, despite your circumstances forcing you down this path. You are a capable woman and far less abrasive than Vellanna," The Elf added, chuckling a bit afterwards in thinking on his own words. "Though, upon saying it out loud, most of us aren't anywhere as sharp as our Dalish friend is."

"She seems to have a lot of baggage," Celestia agreed with a dry chuckle of her own.

"But still, Celestia," He returned to seriousness, looking at her with a stoicism she hadn't seen him exude since she began talking to him. "I value our friendship as much as I depend on your aid in battle. When I feel a bit more...used to your company...I shall share to you why I have a particular bias against mages. Hopefully you can understand the reasoning, even if you find it a slight towards yourself, however unintentional it might be."

"Believe me, Sael'sa," She answered with a smiling shake of a head. "I lived in Kirkwall for over a year and they are the most mixed of bags when it comes to hatred or tolerance of mages. You are by far the most courteous when it comes to speaking of your distrust of mages; understandable, given the worst of the lot our kind has produced."

"I believe that," Sael'sa replied with an endearing grin. "Your stories have left an impression that makes it hard to discount anything as exaggerated. Especially given your performance in skill and control over your own abilities."

"Thank my father for that," She pointed upwards, as if to indicate his place in the life beyond since his passing. "He was a good teacher and had incredible temperance. My sister, Bethany, was able to grasp the basics of the Primal Arts far easier than I did over the Force abilities I was inclined towards. I've learned quite a vast array of other abilities since my time spent in the Red Irons, but I always took what my father taught me to heart."

"You must be blessed to have had such a loving family."

"Yes, well, as you know," Celestia gestured with deflating enthusiasm, adding with a mirthful snort and a shrug. "Good things never last."

A pregnant pause filled the air of the ship's hold, the slight rocking of waves beating against the hull as sailing vessel took to its course. Vague impressions of footsteps creaked floorboards and the sound of splashing water striking the walls. The scent of salt and dank supplies was all the two could drift their attention to as the awkward silence settled between them.

That's when the elf's eyes glimmered and he patted the white haired woman's shoulder.

Blinking with attention returned to him, the youngest warden gestured come hither, urging her to follow. Rolling her eyes, she trotted down the narrow hall of the ship, straight to its center where a series of carved steps led up to the hatch leading to the deck. Following him past it, she'd see there was a small storage room near the bow's belly of the ship, where a number of shelves for preserved goods and materials. However, something was off about a cloth-covered object that was lumped beneath it on top of a barrel.

"I wanted to show you something I've been keeping a secret," He whispered, but obviously cheerful when it came to this topic.

"Please don't tell me you pocketed some of that blood soaked lyrium from spider guts?"

"By Andraste's light, no!" He exclaimed, sounding horrified at the prospect. Looking around to make sure no one was looking, he licked his lips and stood to the side, unfolding the cloth that was hiding the item in question. '

It looked to be an ornamental box, with a sheen of tapered wood of lacquered deep emerald hue that Celestia had never seen before. The legs of the box were shaped like paws, carved with incredible attention to detail by adding flecks of fur across up the rim of the supports for the container. The chassis where the item was stored looked to be an imitation of a sarcophagus, with the top of it having a handle made out of a pair of intertwined antlers. Taking hold of the carved wood, Sael'sa gently opened it with a smooth motion, revealing what looked be something even more intricately carved inside in the box's bottom.

"My father wasn't born in the city, like my mother was," He explained, placing his free hand inside to grasp the object, pulling it free by the emerald link of wood and what looked to be a talisman in the shape of a full-maned wolf. Its eyes had a faint glow to them in the dark and around its open mouth lied what looked to be a humming gem within it that pulsed chromatic, iridescent colors. "He belonged to the Dalish Clan, Man's Vhenan; _River's Heart_. He was an Ironwood crafter, having studied the trade under his master since he was a lad and was treasured within his people. This talisman was the last thing he made, before he left the clan for good."

"What happened?" Celestia asked, her eyes captivated by the shifting myriad of colors that swirled within the wolf's mouth.

"Disagreements with the Keeper, my mother said," The Elf answered. Though his words came out far too detached to show anything resembling an emotion to the sadness of his tale, Celestia could feel the sorrow from it by the gleam reflected by the pendant's colors in his eyes. "My mother was prepared to give away everything to be a part of the clan, but my father didn't take kindly to the way the rest of his people treated her. Not to mention he had a philosophical grief about the tales of the Creators and our wars against the Humans. This pendant was his way of rebuking the Keeper, and after that, he left with my mother to Denerim."

"That certainly is a lot of weight for such a small thing," She half joked as she between him and the talisman he held in his hand. Pointing to it when he made no verbal response, she cocked her head slightly in addendum to her pointed statement. "Is this an enchanted necklace?"

"The First of his clan often dealt in crafting runes into particularly valuable or expensive items they obtained. It was her way of showing she didn't approve of what her Keeper or the rest of the clan were doing to my mother, so with her help they made this pendant," He explained, smiling a bit mirthfully as he spun the talisman around with a twist of his wrist, looking at it admiringly. "I didn't know about any of this until after my father died. A rash bad case of fever took him, and after his funeral, my mother showed me this box with his last creation inside it. Still don't understand why he kept this all from his son."

"Didn't you say you didn't know your parents?" Celestia finally asked, realizing that she was lied to upon their first meeting.

"It wasn't entirely a lie," He explained, turning the necklace around and placing it back into the box with his other hand. "I never really knew who my parents were and they died when I was still young. My trust in people -humans, elves, mages- has been strained. So please pardon me for sounding a bit contradictory in what I had previously said, but I didn't know what to make of you at first," Turning to look at her, he smiled halfheartedly as he looked at her plainly. "I trust you enough to tell you where I've really come from."

"I can understand not telling me everything," Hawke intoned with an air of empathy, her mind turning to her parents about what had transpired in the past involving their time in Kirkwall. "I still don't know my father as much as I wished to. And everything my own mother's family had going on I've only scratched the surface. So, I can forgive you for that," She added with a smirk as she placed her hands on her hips. "But you have to spill your guts on why I'm the exception among mages at some point."

A flush of warmth rose up Sael'sa's neck, painting his cheeks rosy hue as he suddenly had an aversion to look at her at all, placing his back towards her.

"What? Are you...being bashful on me?" Celestia asked incredulously.

"I-It's nothing!" He stammered out, doing his best to not face her.

"Oh really?"

"I-It's just stuffy in here, alright!" He answered in a hasty turn of his hips. The young elf warden tried to push past her, only to trip over her leg, his arms swinging wildly as he began to fall face first towards the floor board. Before he could touch the ground he felt his right arm clasped tightly and pulled upward with a sudden jerk that had him push his momentum into Celestia; pinning her against the wall with his body flush against hers.

"Well-well," She clicked her tongue, batting her eyes at a owlish blinking Sael'sa. "If air is what you need, I think I can help supply you some; provided you want to relieve yourself of discomfort?"

"I-I," The elven warden began to stutter out, his face barely a foot apart from hers as he realized just how intimate their proximity was to each other. Her pale skin was colored with a flush of heat as well, accentuating the pair of glittering silver orbs staring back at his own clear azure irises. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth as he began to reply. "I-I don't think-"

"Hey, you two," A voice grated in like a knife shredding cloth. The pair of junior wardens looked over, seeing the black clothed Nathaniel leaning against the staircase that led up to the deck, staring at them with a dry humored smile. "If you're done humping each other down here, come up top. We're almost at port."

"O-Okay!" Sael'sa replied quickly, pulling himself away from Celestia with all the haste of a thief in the night. He made only a shy look over his shoulder at Celestia before swinging around Howe and clambered up the steps.

Sighing, the argent tressed woman pushed herself off the corridor wall and cocked a brow at the man as she sauntered over to him, "Was that really necessary?"

"If you're really that serious, wait till we at least get to the keep," He chuckled with a shake of his head. "I know you two have been friendly, but I didn't think it's gotten that serious."

"Nothing's serious," She deflected, crossing her arms and leaning to her left hip as she stood in front of him with a furrowed brow. "He got nervous when I asked him something and he panicked. I stopped him from hurting himself from being a klutz and then you walked in on us. I may have teased him a little but there's no harm in a little flirting, right?"

"Of course not, my lady," Nathaniel smiled in response, gesturing for her to move past him. "I'll just assume that means you aren't taken by anyone, then?"

Her thoughts briefly drifted back to Kirkwall. She had met people she had either harbored feelings for or had fancied in her thoughts. Fenris was a bitter but quite physically capable and honest sort, despite his grievances with mages -thus harboring a resentment to her just existing that made Templars look hsopitable by comparison-. Anders was a complicated man, but a former warden with a good sense of humor and a passionate drive to help those he can without expecting anything in return; an attribute she fondly remembered resonating a resemblance to her father. There was even the pious man of indecision with a zeal towards the work of the righteous, Sebastian. He was something else she hadn't expected to find in such a depraved and ruinous city like Kirkwall, but had his own demons to face that she wished he would relieve himself of.

"Not at the moment," She answered, having been taken off guard for longer than she'd like. Though, in attempt for recovery, she swayed her walk in a purposeful sensual stride as she placed a hand over his extended arm. She brushed it from the forearm to his palm, briefly folding her own against his as she looked at him up and down with a flash of her eyes and her white smile. "Unless, you may be interested in taking me, oh daring Howe?"

"Tempt me, do you, Lady Hawke?" He asked with a more crooked smile.

"I hope I'm doing more than tempting," Celestia urged with a challenging glint pressing from her eyes as much as her voice.

"Consideration is what you'll have, my lady," Nathaniel answered with a sigh through his nostrils. Releasing his hold over her hand, he pushed her by the back and guided her to the stairs. "Now up you go."

"I'm going, I'm going!" She exclaimed finally, joining the others on deck.

The modest vessel stretched out towards the horizon, and those she's come to know where all hands on deck. Jorge was pulling in the sails with Asmund while Alistair helped steer near the back. Oghren was busy looking miserable as he hurled over the port side, and Vellanna was doing her best to keep a firm grip on the mast as the tide rocked the ship. Sael'sa was gripping the bow's balcony, practically leaning forward towards their inevitable stop. Even Celestia had to admire the view that was far different from the docks she had to flee with her family at.

Amaranthine, the port city and the heart of the Arling that it belonged to. Having been roughly over a year since it had to contend with both the Blight and a darkspawn campaign, the wounded piece of civilization looked to be in the midst of its recovery, visible even from this distance. Buildings were well under way in construction, and many a worker were bustling around the docks themselves. Had it not been for the flag bearing the colors of the Wardens, it'd be likely they would be turned away from docking in port with how busy it appeared to be.

"_Fereldan again,_" She thought with a smile. "_It's good to be home, even if its not Lothering. I wonder what fate is in store for me at this Vigil's Keep? Better than Kirkwall ever was, I'll bet._"

* * *

**A/N:** And that's a wrap. I know this was shorter than the previous few chapters but I thought this was a good place to start. The stuff I was writing after a certain point felt like pointless drivel and I wanted to cut out the fat. I'll definitely continue to expand the cast as much as possible, as well as keep track of our fair crew back in Kirkwall!

To clarify, yes, the Prince of Starkhaven is in this story and the amulet was delivered to Sundermount. Just thought to get that out of the way so there's no confusion of ambiguity of these things not being answered.

Anyways, I'll see you all in the next update! Have a Happy belated 4th of July, btw!


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